


Ron Chee Investigations: Book 1, The Case Of The Missing Beef Bayonet

by RonChee



Series: Ron Chee Investigations [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Bad Puns, Body Horror, Body Modification, Comedy, Complete, Detectives, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Funny, Hairy, Humor, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ron Chee, Series, Weird Biology, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 19:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15588726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonChee/pseuds/RonChee
Summary: A detective agency of one, Ron Chee of Ron Chee Investigations, gets his hardest and longest case yet in.What lengths will Ron Chee go to when his fate gets tied to his client's, and it becomes personal?





	1. Chapter 1: A Hairy Case

    I come from a long line of dicks, so becoming a detective made sense for the sake of the family legacy.

Most days I managed not to regret it too much.  This wasn’t one of those days. 

“Finally!” I said, my savior had arrived at the house, looking spiffy in his Sunday best as he approached the house I was staking out and knocked.   My luck was looking even better as he hugged and kissed Mrs. Bush as soon as she answered the door as I snapped some photos- or rather I pretended to make a phone call while taking a video since fortunately this isn’t some gritty detective novel. 

It’s not like the old days, hell, it was never like the old days.  The movies and books lied to you, being a detective isn’t nearly as glamorous and exciting as Hollywood would like you to believe. 

Some cases are quick and easy,  some are long, boring and easy, and some are damned near impossible headaches that you regret taking. 

This one was between the first two which was great.  Well, for the most part, after all, I did get paid by the hour. 

I considered waiting until they were done for the goodbye kiss, or maybe even staking out the bedroom window- for more evidence and to pad the bill some, but decided against the latter.    I didn’t need to get caught being a peeping Tom again.  Besides, the curtain had been closed that morning when I checked, so I’d have to make do with the baboon.

Navigating my phone to the browser- and painstakingly typing in the long-ass URL from the manual, and I was soon watching the bedroom via the stuffed baboon I’d had Mr Bush gift to his wife, that I had wired up with camera- far cheaper than a store bought nanny-cam. 

I nearly gagged when, after some kissing and heavy petting  Mrs. Bush’s bush was revealed, her name was apt, it was titanic!

How does a man face a jungle like that, I’ll never know.  It reminds me of that Japanese guy who hid in the jungles of the Philippines for 3 decades not believing WW2 was over, just getting in there, living in it and loving it. 

I felt flashbacks to the 80‘s coming on.  This was a problem because I hadn’t even been walking yet in the 80‘s! 

I was getting sick enough to call it a day, when I heard a loud rap on my window and nearly dropped the phone, fumbling with it and managing to turn off the rather enthusiastic moaning coming from it.  I turned to chew out the bastard that interrupted my internal monologue when I saw it was a woman that was practically foaming with rage, motioning me to roll down my window.   I imagined her anger was from seeing someone she mistook as a pervert  in her neighborhood watching porn in public- didn’t I know there were impressionable kids that could have seen it.

I immediately felt bad, no one should see a bush like that, especially not kids, they might think it’s normal and not trim or shave. 

“Sorry lady.”  I said, mostly meaning it, but she didn’t let a small thing like that stop her from shouting “What do you think you are doing!”, as she started shouting nonsensical things- I mostly tuned it out.  So what if I felt bad I could have exposed kids to Jane of the Jungle, er, Mrs. Jane Bush that is, I didn’t want to hear that shrieking.  So I started my car and drove off hoping she didn’t get my plates- becoming a sex offender would put a crimp on my detective work.

Besides, as the kids say, that was enough Internet for today. 

***

   “I can’t believe she would do this!”  Mr Bush was practically in tears as he looked at the photographs and video. 

I tried to console him “Hey, think of it this way, you can find someone who... trims, or maybe shaves or waxes...”  I’m not good at this really, stop your blubbering man.  People cheat a lot- the vast majority of these “are they cheating” type jobs  end this way- only a handful of times they actually aren’t shampooing the wookie, though it’s not usually so literal.  It’s given me a few trust issues to say the least. 

“Well I never!”  I didn’t get a tip, and had to argue myself blue in the face just to get paid, as they try to use any little thing to get out of paying if you give them an excuse.   As he slammed the door to my shabby office- a must for a Dick of any quality- the dust on the top of the door raised a small cloud, making me sneeze. 

Trying to calm myself, I thought about my home away from home.

Having a nice office makes people suspicious that you’re well off, that the job’s easy- and that they can haggle. Make it look like you’re barely making end’s meet, and well, they won’t complain as much.  Make em want to leave, that’s my motto. 

Sure it was dusty, sure I picked up the desk at the side of the road and the mismatching chairs at goodwill, but they were... well-loved, vintage even!  

Technology had made redundant a lot of the traditional detective gear, so most of the office was bare, my laptop and smart phone saved me an incalculable amount of time and effort, flash light, camera, magnifying glass- the works. 

Whipping out a magnifying glass in this day and age and people will think you’re being silly and should just get glasses, that or they think you’re about to set fire to a bunch of ants. 

I did have one concession to the old times, my book shelf- an Ikea special that always seemed to lean a bit to the side no matter what I did.   It was filled with a variety of books- usually in stacks as I couldn’t be bothered to properly shelf them, the one’s facing out were the ones I wanted people to see- things like criminology, psychology, investigative techniques and such. 

A few of my favorites were on the shelf- mostly my detective novels and... illustrated novels and all the rest at home, though they were largely urban fantasy and, well, comic books, I was still holding out for magic or superpowers so I could make use of all their teachings.

I had a couple plastic bags full of old paperbacks beside the bookshelf, that I read and weren’t quite good enough to keep that I kept meaning to exchange through the Internet, but well, I’m rather lazy. 

The stack of paperbacks in the corner of the book shelf were my to reads- I took them on boring cases in bad neighborhoods where a smart phone, laptop or an ebook reader might get me  full of holes for a quick score- and when I couldn’t afford to drain my phone’s battery and was away from the car. 

The stack was still standing, so I didn’t object to the crop dusting- yeah, bastard farted as he left as well and I was only now smelling it.  

I did object to the glued on sign on my door falling off again.

***

I shook off my musings on my office, that had been strange, I wasn’t nearly high enough to be zoning out like that. 

Getting out a bottle of super glue from my office drawer that looked rather like a home’s junk drawer, briefly wondering why I had a rubber chicken in there before remembering that case slightly fondly giving it a pat before getting up. 

Picking up my sign, I once again glued the thing to the door.  I took a step back to admire it, proof positive that I was doing what I loved.  Well, sometimes.  It paid decently at least, now that I was firmly established. 

The sign was slightly crooked, a bit like me to be honest.   It was intentional of course.  People felt good when they could one up someone, it was a conversation starter- if I had a dollar for every time said “You know, your signs crooked” I’d be... Wait, I did have a dollar for every time someone said it- I had a small consulting fee.   After all “It’s not legal unless money changes hands” and “If you pay me and sign this it’s all confidential, money has to change hands for this to work however” are staples of the business world.

The misspelling on the other hand, bothered me.  Well, not misspelling, but rather a shortening.  They had used Ron instead of Ronald, the obvious and unfunny joke of a name my parents saddled had me with was too funny for the sign maker to resist.  Ron Chee Investigations.  Raunchy, yes, ha-ha, how very droll.

Still, it did get me a good deal more business than I’d have otherwise since the phone book guy was in cahoots with the sign maker, it was a raunchy conspiracy, but it worked too well most days, so it stayed. 

When I got back in my office I started reading a very serious detective handbook- Batman comics absolutely counting as such. The phone rang of course.  My office phone was an old rotary, that I had gutted replacing it with the insides of a modern phone, a fun weekend project- , I answered “Ron Chee Investigations, how may I help you today?”

“I lost my ...”  A guy said frantically, mumbling the last word so low I didn’t have a chance, “I’m sorry, what was it that you lost?”

“My.. Thing.”

“Well, uh, I’ll need more than that to go on...”  I rolled my eyes, clients were always expecting me to be this omnipotent Sherlock Holmes, though it wasn’t only Dicks they picked on that way. 

“My ...”  He again whispered it, much to my ire. 

“The reception must be bad”  I said.  Or you’re an idiot, one or the other, and your first guess doesn’t count.  “Can you speak a little louder please?”  There, it’s the phone’s fault, stop being so embarrassed and spit it out. 

“I lost my DICK!  Alright!  My dick!  Are you happy now!?”

Uh... no, but if I say that you probably won’t pay me.  Wait, did he say dick? 

“Alright, sorry about that, uh, and this dick... a dildo do you mean?”

“No, my.... My penis just went missing!” Phew,  thought he was after the souvenir dildo I had nicked for a moment there.  Long story.

“Have you checked between your legs?”  Crap, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.

“This isn’t a joke!  I woke up hungover needing to piss like a fucking racehorse and low and behold, there’s just smooth skin where my dick should be!”

Huh.  “No bleeding?  No scar?” 

“No, nothing!  It wasn’t cut off or if it was it was healed after somehow!”

Okay...  “Do... Do you have a vagina instead or something?”

“No I don’t fucking have a vagina, I just told you it doesn’t bleed!  I had a dick yesterday, today, nothing!  I’ll show you!  What’s your email address?”  This guy’s gotta be crazy...  Still, I answered,  and was soon looking at a perfectly smooth unmarred patch of very white skin where a penis should be.  There was a pair of balls forlornly dangling looking bizarrely lonely without a penis.   Just to make sure I ran the image through Tineye- a reverse image search and came up with nada. I tried Google images but still nothing- it... It may have just been the limitations of the search engines, but I was going to err on the side of him not just stealing this image off the net. 

Quickly zooming in, I didn’t see any serious breaks in color or pattern of pixels, save the white patch itself- but... looking up an image of tan lines, it looked fairly similar to that even up close. 

That and the pure panic in the guy’s voice...   I picked the ear piece back up and said “Alright, lets say I believe you-”  I don’t, but lets say that, I could use the money. “-why don’t you come in for an appointment, there’s a small fee- just to make things confidential of course...” 

I smiled as he agreed readily and we soon hashed out the when- 2PM tomorrow- can’t seem too eager for a quicky- er, a quick consult that is, and the where, including directions.  Sure, you can email a picture of your hairy Houdini, but you can’t use Google maps?   Some people man, some people. 


	2. Enter The Squirrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Dresden- wait, wrong detective, Ron Chee here, I'm about to meet a client who I'm pretty sure is insane, wish me luck.

 

Some people say the car makes the man. I don’t know if I believe that, and I’m sure I don’t want to.  
  
My van was a work vehicle, and just like a clipboard and the proper attitude of belonging there and being far to busy to dally can help you get to places you don’t belong, so too does my van. No one expects the plumbers. The custom paint job had cost me an arm and a leg, more than the van did if I’m being honest.  
  
A cartoon on the side of it had a plumber snaking a toilet- buttcrack and all, and the slogan "First we drill, then we bill” - along with my number. I don’t take a lot of plumbing jobs that pop up through it- it’s mostly camouflage after all- but when things are tight I sometimes haven’t always had the choice.  
  
I got home to my apartment, after dodging past a couple running kids screaming was heard shrilly “I’m going to kill you” along with a trailing laughter that was supposed to be evil but just sounded silly. Well, it beat a dog barking ominously in the distance, I thought, unlocking my apartment door.  
  
I kicked off my shoes near moaning in relief, and soon my pants and weighty utility belt joined them on the floor. As my Dad would say “What, wear pants in my own damn house after working like a dog all day? No way in hell, if someone doesn’t like it they can leave!” That was a fun Thanksgiving.  
  
Turning on music, I flopped down in a lazy boy as the calming sounds of metal assaulted my ears and winding down from a long day by smoking a left handed cigarette, and was soon melting into putty.  
  
I could say it helped me think- helped my creative side, helping me with my cases... I’d be lying, but I could say it.  
  
Honestly though, with most cases so routine and boring, the only thing it would do was distract me, but for relaxing after a hard days work it beat a beer. Besides it was perfectly legal- I had a bad back, just look at the way I was sitting!  
  
An hour or two later had me in front of the TV as the news came on and after laughing at yet at a man stuck in a Port-A-Potty was a story that caught my attention.  
  
“On the even lighter side of the news, four men are reporting missing ... wait really?” A flustered female reporter listened to something on her earpieces before saying “Alright, sorry about that folks. Four men are reporting missing their genitals in the Las Vegas area. If you see the body parts in question, or have any knowledge of their whereabouts call Channel 6‘s crime stoppers at...” Next to her the male anchor seemed to be struggling to contain his laughter.  
  
It... it couldn’t be, could it? I looked at the ashtray accusingly out the corner of my eye. This was obviously it’s fault, this could not be real.  
  
Shaggy and Scooby Doo never had to deal with this shit, why did I?  
  
But... Looking down at my exposed genitals- airing out the boys after a long day’s work was only natural- could I really turn my back on a man who lost his true best friend?  
  
My face took on what I assumed was a manly look of resolve- I didn’t have a mirror on hand to check, I should get one for my utility belt- a mirror on a stick to see around corners, I had to write this down!  
  
I returned to my lazy boy after having written it down in the notepad on my belt sitting down heavily. What was I... Oh right, I would stop at nothing to save those men’s penises!  
  
“And now our Thursday thriller, Half Baked...“ The TV sang to me seductively, and well, you aren’t supposed to operate heavy machinery while intoxicated, and I always followed the law.  
  
It wasn’t like I had any leads, I could hardly go out in the ol’ mystery machine screaming for penis like it was a missing child.  
  
***  
  
 The next morning the events of the previous day going through my head, I went back on my word almost immediately. The night’s rest had done me some good, I must have been stupid high to have ever believed a word of what the crackpot had been selling, and looking at my notebook was further proof. Though that mirror on a stick was a decent idea...  
  
Knowing I’d be dealing with a crazy guy, well, if there ever was a day to wake and bake, it was today. I got through my morning run, stretches and a little time on the punching bag kicking and, well punching the hell out of it. I was no professional martial artist, but a decent boxer and grappler sure- it was enough the few times I’d needed it so far.  
  
Sad though, how running and hiding came in handy far more than fighting.  
  
I then put on my Goofy Boots, I didn’t want to go into the meeting with the nutjob wearing dress shoes.  
  
Driving to work, I was careful to to not drive under the speed limit, a quick stop off at Jack In The Crack, and I arrived at the office.  
  
I flipped the henge I’d installed on the bottom of the rotary phone and played my two messages on the answering machine, spam and a plea for helping find a lost 25 foot tall dog- bright red- but with no return number. I had the feeling it was another prank, so I hit delete.  
  
Then I checked the email. Spam, more spam- and a case! Sure, I’ll help you find Uranus, have you looked at your face in a mirror lately?  
  
  
I snorted before deleting it, giving up on mail. Before goofing off- er, studying to become a better detective that is- I did look for and bought a couple things- a telescoping inspection mirror, and a snake inspection camera, figuring that they both had their uses. The former would go on my belt as it weighed far less, the later in my office to be taken when needed.  
  
Then it was back to the grindstone. It was a tough job, I thought, propping my feet on the desk with a comic book in hand, but someone had to do it.  
  
***  
  
 I got back to work after my smoke and lunch break in the nick of in the nick of time.  
  
A man looking like he was trying to be conspicuous wearing a trench coat and fedora, it’s outsides lined with tinfoil, with a newspaper in hand looking about like a squirrel surrounded by nuts was periodically very lightly knocking at my door as if afraid he’d injure it before looking around somewhat nervously- jumping when he saw me.  
  
“Morning... er Afternoon- I’m Detective Ron Chee” I waited while he giggled- that was a good sign- ease the tensions of the crazy guy so he doesn’t shoot you up, and he let me unlock the door and led him inside.  
  
“Sit sit” I said and he hushed me “They could be listening!” he hissed out. Crazy guy say what?  
  
“Alright, have a seat, can I get you anything- coffee, water...” I said lower, considering calling the cops for a 5150.  
  
“No thanks, and quieter! What if your office is bugged!? When was the last time you swept for bugs?”  
  
Er... right. “I assure you there weren’t any bugs when I checked right before getting..” Looking at my watch I decided on “Lunch, and the security is better than it appears.” It appears there’s nothing save the crappy building’s alarm system at night, but cops patrol around here pretty frequently- after all there’s a donut shop around the corner.  
  
“Alright, you... You gotta help me!”  
  
“Alright, and... you were the caller from yesterday right, I never got your name I’m embarrassed to admit- you caught me right after a case...”  
  
“No names!” He hissed out looking like he was ready to jump out the tiny excuse of a window, then at the door as if he’d pull a runner at the slightest sign of betrayal. Oh well, not like I didn’t look up his phone number and found his name yesterday, it just wasn’t generally good to admit to snooping on clients.  
  
“Yes, I .. Yes I called, can you help me?”  
  
“First of all, let’s get the contract for the consulting out of the way- and I’ll see whether I can help you- if not I’ll try to direct you to someone that can.” The nuthouse called, it wants it’s squirrel back, I thought, but first it can pay me for putting on pants today.  
  
“Alright, just hurry, I may have been followed!” He got up and looked out the blinds trying to spot someone. How, I don’t know, the window was largely decorative as it faced another building a few feet away.  
  
“There’s also the fee- it’s quite reasonable, only 30 dollars per hour- you shouldn’t need more than a single hour for this however...” As I was sure I’d be calling him a ...taxi.  
  
“Alright! Here already, now can you help me or not?” he shoved wadded up bills at me and I grimaced as one seemed covered in grape jelly. Still, it was money...  
  
“Just to go over... Ah...” I didn’t write any of yesterday’s call down- just ‘Crazy Consult - 2PM’, “Alright, best start from the beginning so we can be sure all our facts are straight, and repeating it may help us find some more clues....” That sounded right, and that’s half the job.  
  
“Alright, I woke up hungover, so I go to take a piss right? But... It’s not there. I looked everywhere all the while having to piss like a fucking racehorse, the sun was blinding, it was the worst of times...” I struggled not to roll my eyes, but I dutifully wrote down the important bits.  
  
“I checked the sheets, under the bed, the car, the pants from yesterday, everywhere, it was missing, and I really had to go, so well, I pissed. It... it was strange, I could feel my penis pissing, and it was only then I noticed how cold it was, it felt like it was in a sink or something.”  
  
“Did... Did you piss in a sink?”  
  
“Well, maybe, I couldn’t see it!”  
  
Right, so he’s missing his cock but able to feel and piss out of it? Instead of panicking blindly he searches for it, which seems a bit strange as well, shouldn’t he have been calling 911?  
  
“But then it got worse! I... Someone washed it with burning hot water, it felt searing, and some soap got in my peehole thing-” “It’s called a urethra” I interrupted, he stared at me rather deadpanned, and I couldn’t help reddening a bit, not having meant to blurt that out. “I looked it up once, okay?”, “Right, whatever, anyway, it burned right? Next thing I know the penis is being manhandled into a shoe-”  
  
“How could you tell it was a shoe?” I piped in, sensing there was a funny story here.  
  
He glared at me “What I do in my free time is my own business, anyway, next thing I know is a socked foot painfully squeezed in the shoe and a few minutes later agony as my cock gets crushed under immense weight- I’d say the person had to weigh at least 250 pounds!”  
  
“How do you know that?” I ask before I could stop myself.  
  
“Fine, I have a small foot fetish, alright! Enough with the fucking questions!” He shouted then immediately shrunk in on himself as if the fetish police were about to bust down the door and spank him for it like an errant school boy caught in his Mum’s clothes.  
  
“Alright, sorry, what happened next?” This was interesting at least, I wished I had popcorn.  
  
“Well, I was in agony right- hungover and cock stepped on way too hard by some stupid hippo, I called in sick to work- and started drinking, hair of the dog and I fucking deserved some pain relief-” Right, any excuse to drink it smelled like, but I wasn’t one to throw stones in glass houses. “Anyway, it stopped and started a couple times, I guess she drove to work or something, I wasn’t stepped on too hard then she was standing the whole time after that- I couldn’t piss for the life of me and it felt like I was going to burst when got up and started walking again and I couldn’t help it.” He grimaced in embarrassment, he... he was actually blushing?  
  
“Alright, I think I know someone who can help you, let me just call them and get you the help you need” I said in that voice you use for small children, drunks, and crazy people, and this guy was looking like 2 of the 3 so far. “No!” he stood up in a rush, “You have to believe me!” I backed away from the phone as he reached into his overcoat, my hands shooting to the sky- I didn’t have a gun- best I had was a bit of mace, a rape whistle, a collapsible baton and swiss knife, he could be packing a sawed-off shotgun or something! I wasn’t being paid enough to get shot!  
  
But... instead of drawing out a weapon, he opened his trench coat, and well, I admit it, I looked, it was flashing right in my face, motion draws the human eye! But... there was smooth flesh, nothing more, well, and his balls, flabby gut and... ew. Strapped to his right thigh, and leading to a hole in his side was a bag full of piss with a tube going out of it leading to his bandaged gut.  
  
I slowly put my arms down just staring at it, his balls looked... very strange without his penis, far more when they moved as he closed his coat sitting back down, half smug half worried, “You’re sure there aren’t any bugs?”  
  
“What? Oh, uh, yes, I’m sure, no bugs. So... what happened after you pissed in that person’s shoe?”  
  
He grimaced, “She stomped her foot on it so hard my grandchildren felt it, over and over again, before setting it in a sink I assume- along with... a couple others to my side” Shivering he said “I felt the others, god that was horrible, and... well, one of them grew hard..” He looked sick at that, his face going through so many various emotions so fast I had to wonder if he considered acting?  
  
“Anyway, after that, I thought it was better to not risk it, she put me in the sink a few other times but when I just didn’t piss I guess she figured it out, thank god.”  
  
“Alright, is that all?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“So she hasn’t er... Done anything else with you?”  
  
“No, just washed me and used me as a shoe insert. You’d think she’d at least use me as a dildo, but no!” He seemed genuinely offended he hadn’t been... used.  
  
“I mean, if you got a woman’s vagina separate from the body but somehow still connected to the rest, you wouldn’t just use it as chewing gum or something, right?”  
  
I... what an odd idea, but, I couldn’t help agreeing with the man, that sounded like it’d be an awful gum- imagine if you swallowed it, hell imagine if she had to pee! I nodded slowly before asking the important bit that could save me a lot of time and effort, “Alright, so do you have any enemies or suspects?”  
  
“I... No, I don’t think so, I’d say maybe my ex but she’s still fucking bony as hell, fucking anorexic whore... I can’t think of anyone else.”  
  
“Alright, and when was the last time you remember seeing your penis?” The strange places being a Dick takes you...  
  
“I... I think it was two days ago, after a couple beers at this one place, Sotty’s, you know it?”  
  
“Yeah, there’s tons of em, the things spread like herpes. You got the address to the one you were at?”  
  
“Uh... Do I have to tell you?”  
  
“Well, if you want me to try hunting down your pecker, there’s no other leads really, you could wait for a ransom call but it sounds like this person’s just a pick-penis. Or you could call the cops and tell them-”  
  
“I did! They laughed me out of the building!”  
  
“But... I saw on the news yesterday-”  
  
“Bah, they probably think it’s fake too, it’s just so sensationalist that they ran it as a story anyway, they’ll do anything for ratings.” He waved me off and I couldn’t help but agree with him yet again, making me doubt my own sanity, even as he finally closed the trench coat sitting down, much to my relief.  
  
“Alright, then I really need that address... but first, my rates...” After all , even if I was starting to believe the guy I wasn’t a charity.  
  
After that was settled- I have a very sophisticated sliding scale of how much I thought that person could afford and how much they irritated me- along with a healthy retainer, I got back to the grindstone, “Alright, and the address, and what time did you get there, piss, and leave?”  
  
I jotted it all down, before asking “Alright, and I’ll be needing descriptions of everyone you remember being there at the time or even seeing that day and when- it could have been any of them or none of them- and just given it to a friend despite how much you think they weigh after all...”  
  
He didn’t remember much, only a few “babes” as he called em, and the friendly neighborhood bartender, who was a babe that brought him booze, and the apparent reason he went to that Sotty’s.  
  
I also got his exes number- after I revealed the hidden secret that women have friends too.  
  
“Alright, that should be enough to start on” Unfortunately, I didn’t want to be the Dick known for looking for dicks, but... I remembered my solemn vow from yesterday. I had to help if I could. Still, a missing penis still feeling things, still able to piss? That... wasn’t right, but then again, I wasn’t a biologist.  
  
“Now, if you’ll sign this contract...”  
  
“But... Then you’ll know who I am!” I rolled my eyes, he already signed the paperwork for the consultation- did he forget that?  
  
“Squ- Squids that is can spray ink, what’s your point?” Couldn’t call him Squirrel out loud, “Everything is entirely confidential, I’ll never tell anyone who my clients are unless court ordered to.” I sighed as started muttering to himself. “If it puts your mind at ease I can promise you I won’t even look.”  
  
To my surprise he did sign, and without reading to boot, I winced, but took it, not looking- I’d wait till he was gone, no way was I getting ripped off, and after giving him his copy I stashed it in my drawer.  
  
“Oh, one more thing... I can’t believe I’m asking this but... Do you have a picture of your penis I could have if I find one missing a body?” I asked cautiously.  
  
“I... A few, I’ll send them when I get home.”  
  
“Alright, contact me if anything new happens- or if they give you a ransom note or call, alright?” At his nodding I said, “Hang in there, we'll do our best to find your missing... limb.”  
  
“Thank you, thank you so much!” I immediately felt guilty- I was in no way sure I could find it- in fact I probably couldn’t, but I had to try, and the guy couldn’t go to the cops about this- who would believe him?  
  
He left with a smile on his face, and before the door closed I heard “By the way, your sign’s crooked, might want to fix that.”  
  
I knew only one thing for certain, I was going to need more left-handed cigarettes.


	3. Grand Theft Sausage Baton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of driving and talking, when everyone just wants action! Sex! Gunfights! Well, sorry to disappoint you folks, I'd like those things as well, but alas, life is like a box of chocolates, sometimes you get the one you hate, but you feel too guilty wasting food to just throw it out.

The drive back home early enough for after school traffic picking up was a pain- and took long enough that I couldn’t help thinking about what it would be like. 

To have a detached, but still connected somehow penis in someone else’s hands- literally and metaphorically. Still feeling it, still able to use it. It was terrifying and... slightly arousing I admit, but it sounded anything but fun for a man missing their bologna pony from Squirrel’s account. 

A bowl of- lets say ice cream later and it didn’t help. It kept popping up in my mind, and I knew it was time to go to Sotty’s and see what could be found, and maybe tomorrow question the ex.

But I hesitated, since I really didn’t want to go around asking about missing peckers. So I started off with a phone call. “Detective Collins, go” Straight to the point- a party pooper if there ever was one these days, but he was an old smoking buddy and more importantly a member of The Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. 

“Hey, it’s Ron Chee-” “Oh, good to hear from you, but I’m working right now, you shouldn’t be calling me here.”

“It’s work related, honest- I’ve got a guy with... well, he’s missing his Johnson and I was hoping you might have a lead or three...”

“I see, how long’s the boy been missing?”

“Uh, 2 days but-”

“Well, have him come down and file a report, or we’ll go to him, we’d be glad to help!”

“That’s the thing, he doesn’t want anyone to know and he thinks the snatcher might do something awful if he’s found to have contacted the cops...” Okay, more that he was laughed out of the precinct, but close enough. 

“I see, you think he killed this Johnson? Is that his son or what?” He suddenly sounded even more serious, and a bit scary if I’m being honest. 

“No, he wouldn’t do that, too attached I suspect- but I guess it’s not impossible... but... it’s not his son, it’s his slong.”

“His what? That like a sloth?”

“No, it’s well, his pecker.”

“Oh, so it’s a bird? We really don’t handle missing pets...”

“No, it’s his penis!” I snapped.

“Shut up in there, I’ve got work in a few hours you bloody cunt!” the voice came not from the phone but from the ceiling. 

I grimaced, “Sorry Misses Weatherby!” I’ve got to get a house of my own- living in an apartment complex sucks. 

“You still there Collins?”

“Yeah, only I think the lines crossed, could have sworn you said you were talking about a missing penis, buying into the tabloids are we? You might want to cut down on the sticky icky there bud.”

“I... It was missing, perfectly smooth skin, honest to god, did you hear anything about this?”

“No, well, the guys were laughing about it, prank calls are through the roof- lots of visits to kids that think they’re funny and scaring the love of God into them but other than that...”

“Damn, keep in touch if you hear anything?”

“Sure sure, not like it’s an actual case or anything” He trailed off chuckling, I grit my teeth but bore it, it was useful not to be constrained by red tape for once. “Alright, thanks”

“See ya.” He hung up, before I could reply, too important for long goodbyes I guess. I blame the donuts. 

Still, before I forgot again I wrote down the gist of it- cops don’t know but my contact’s keeping his ear to the ground- also put down the increase in prank calls was put down- who knew if it might be useful or not, probably not, but keeping good notes has saved my ass more than once. 

One thing was clear though. “I should have become a cop instead. They get to shoot people at least, and speed, and don’t have to take these weird ass cases.” I nodded decisively, time to get to work. 

***

I got ready for a night out on the town- or in a tiny casino. I dressed casual- people don’t dress up to go to neighborhood casinos, at least not in their Sunday best barring tourists, eccentrics and occasionally the elderly. A tie-dyed shirt, slightly ripped jeans and sneakers was very casual indeed. I put on my glasses- I don’t need them to see, but the video camera inside of them would be useful, the video quality wasn’t great- though the audio was pretty decent.

Shame it was too hot for a coat, and worse still the ole utility/tool belt would be out of place, so I transfered a handful of the contents into my pockets. 

Double checking everything, I took off the pouches of the toolbelt and put it on, after all I had replaced it with something far more useful. Starting with the secret zipper on the underside containing a bare minimum survival kit, the belt and buckle contained a knife and a flint and steel- and I had added a small lockpicking kit, just in case I locked myself out of my car of course, along with twenty bucks- three five dollar bills and five one’s, which came in handy more than everything else had combined. 

I had a Dick kit in the car as well- various odds and ends, most of which that I would have found useful on previous cases but didn’t have at thes time. 

Before stepping out I remembered to check my email.

The Squirrel went above and beyond the call of duty with the pictures of his pecker he promised to present. 

There were dozens, along with a video or two, flaccid, hard, pissing, cumming, it had it all, identifying it wouldn’t be too hard. I also found out why it was getting the world’s worst footjob instead of being put to more pleasurable past-times. It was on the small side, 4 inches being generous. No distinctive marks save it hung slightly to the left- not sure how that would help but you never know. 

I sent a couple to my phone and hoped it wouldn’t be seen by anyone ever. 

***

I arrived at Sotty’s just as the evening rush was kicking into high gear. Sotty’s was like the otty’s with a D- the only difference was using Sotty’s wouldn’t get me sued by them protecting their brand if I ever published my memoirs, fingers crossed. 

As soon as I entered the small corner casino and bar that had spread like herpes across the Las Vegas Valley, I was nearly frozen stiff- and grimaced, I could have gotten away with a coat. Casinos always try to freeze their customers in place in Vegas- why go back out into the hot sun when you can stay and become a popsicle?

The place was a bit packed, so I went to the bathroom looking everywhere but didn’t see any penis but my own- go when you can, that’s my motto. 

There was indeed a seat empty by the time I got back and started gambling, hoping this wouldn’t cost me too much- then again, I’d be billing Squirrel for it and certainly would be keeping the winnings if I managed, so I suppose it didn’t matter. 

I managed to ask the bartender the weirdest thing she’d ever found left behind while ordering a drink- but my answer was an urn full of ashes and cigarette butts, and not a penis, so that was out.

As I played I looked for likely suspects- no one stood out really, no one seemed to be in the 250 pound range other than a guy- but he was wearing sandals- and Squirrel said it was a woman. I guessed he only hoped it was a woman, there was no way to say for sure- though I was willing to take his word that it was a heavier person at least, that I could buy. 

On the victims front, I didn’t see any men that looked as nervous or in pain save from losing all their money, none in pleasure aside from the rare win. So I made small talk. 

“Hey, you hear about that crazy missing pecker business?” turned out to be a pretty good icebreaker, who knew? 

It wasn’t nearly as bad as I had feared it would be- I led each conversation to me knowing a guy that knows a guy that lost his pecker at this very place and if they had heard anything or seen anything suspicious, and got bupkis aside from complaints about a panhandler and the usual Vegas shenanigans of the elderly not getting up to use the restroom when they’re on a winning streak not wanting to lose their machine. 

It was getting on in time- and in rum and cokes- hey they were complimentary and it would have been suspicious not to drink! When I saw her. It... was too obvious that I almost dismissed it, a heavy set woman, check and check... and she was walking strangely, her steps seeming to stagger her feet to a side occasionally as she walked to an empty machine. 

She had on sneakers with socks as well, it very well could be the perp, but I doubted I was that lucky. She also was weighty, with a “I want to speak to your manager” short haircut and the two extra vestigial boobs that fat people sometimes get. 

With liquid courage and smoky calm, I waited and pounced as soon as a machine near her cleared, I quickly blew through through the rest of my money on my current machine- not hard since the casino always wins in the end. 

I slid next to her and put in a fiver “Hope this machine’s luckier than the last, swear I’ve got to stop gambling but I can’t help myself” I said, trying my best to sound frustrated. 

The guy on my other side snorted “I hear that”

A few rounds in I sprung my question “So you guys hear about that penile pirate?”

“Penile pirate?” the guy asked sounding rather amused- and... the woman started. That was enough for me to suspect her, at times like this I wish I was a cop and could strip search her, which, for one, ew, and two, with the security camera police or not I might get in trouble for trying. 

“Yeah, some guy’s been stealing other penises or something, tabloids stuff, you’d figure they’d stick to aliens, but this one’s supposed to be human”

“Huh, weird. Can’t say I’ve heard it, don’t read those things, I get my news from the NPR. Liberals slant the news too much, but they do better than the tabloids at least, sounds stupid.” Uh, right. 

“Yeah, who’d do such a thing and why? Psychos man, to even think of that kind of thing they’ve got to be out of their fucking minds” I could see her clinching her fists out of the corner of my eye, and withheld a grin as she cashed out saying “You should feel distrusted talking about that in public! I’m a good Christian woman, I don’t want to hear your profanity!” and soon was standing waiting for the cashier. “Evening, how can I help you, another gin and tonic?” “I’d like to cash out and get a carton of humps, longs, the company is... poor tonight.” What a bitch. A few minutes later I heard “Alright, have a good one” “You too dear”. Drat, no name used.

I wanted to follow her but... well, I was far too toasted to be doing any driving truthfully, I had thought that there was no way I’d find her, who goes to the same casino every day?

Still I had the presence of mind barely to stagger out after her and pretend to be on a call while taking a video of her with my cell, hopefully in better quality than my glasses, before ordering an Uber home. 

 

I spent the rest of the time waiting taking video of other patrons, after all it wasn’t for sure that woman. I’d show the offended woman’s video still somewhere in the middle when asking Squirrel if he recognized anyone, don’t want any false positives. 

I was feeling pretty good about myself as I passed out on my bed that night, thinking it a job well done. 

Of course, when I woke up with a strange lightness, and feeling my cock and balls were freezing, I did the rational thing and tried to warm them up. After a moments of panicked groping I found my worst nightmare come true, my penis was missing, and worse- my balls were gone as well.


	4. Say Goodbye To My Little Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dick without a dick is one sad dick. Tug one out for me folks.

    How can you be a dick without one?  Oh, sure, there were female detectives, few and far between, but they were there!  But...  I don’t know.  It was just a shock. 

I was numb, like my world had shattered and I was staring at the gaping chasm where all that I loved had fallen.   On top of that I was hungover and needed to piss bad.

You know those detectives in the books, TV shows, and movies, anything goes wrong and they’re still as cool as a cucumber?  I was doing a rather good imitation of one, but on because I was in shock. 

I was breathing heavily as I got out of bed, hoping it’d just been a nightmare.  Ignoring my full bladder I practically ran to the bathroom- the lack of movement down there so bizarre that I barely noticed as my usual tactics of stalling my morning stream had failed and I was pissing while running, before pulling my all too dry boxers down in front of the mirror. 

It was as if I had never had balls or a penis, they were just gone, the skin absolutely smooth and hairless where they had been, significantly pale as well- I hadn’t noticed it on Squirrel at the time- but thinking back on it, the place where his penis had been had been a sort of white oasis surrounded by hair. 

My cellphone rang- which filled me with renewed hope- not that some spammer or client was calling me, fuck them, but rather the videos I took, I got that woman’s license plates after all, I could get my boys back!

As sudden as the relief had been so too was the pain, as if my balls had been swatted by a hand and the phone started ringing again.  Another swat had me hurrying to the cellphone putting two and two together, “Hell-OW!  Hello?”

“About time, next time you make me wait like that.... well, it’s just not a good thing to do.”  I swallowed-  the voice was robotic, and looking at the phone... the number was obviously spoofed, 777-777-7777, really?   I hoped the plate was to her car, and not a friends, that could be a headache and a half. 

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to stop investigating, otherwise, who knows what might happen?”  I swallowed as I felt myself picked up by the skin of my balls, which didn’t hurt nearly as much as I would have imagined, then dropped painfully smacking into the cold surface which did a good deal and... oh god, there were other penises...  Still, it wasn’t quite as bad as being kicked in the balls- close though. 

“Got it?”

“I.. I got it.  Just give them back.” I croaked out. 

“No thanks, I shall be keeping them as... collateral.   Now, I still have to punish you for investigating at all, I mean really, couldn’t you do something with your life rather than chase ambulances like the rest of those crooks?”  She wasn’t that bright, I thought, mixing me up with crappy lawyers, that was a good sign, right?  Of course I would still investigate!  If anything it just became far more important to, personal stakes were like that. 

“After all, who knows what could happen?  Someone could drop something important down a garbage disposal, or toss a dog a bone...” She continued.   Then again, I’ve heard good things about retirement.  Still, if she was keeping it close at hand to do those things, I had a chance.

“I trust you understand where I’m going with this and why you shouldn’t keep investigating?”

I grit out, “Yes.”  Though I was lying through my teeth, I wasn’t going to be a eunuch forever if I could help it, but at this point... at this point getting the cops involved would be beyond stupid, even if I found the stupid cow. 

“I don’t think I believe you... Oh well, it’s no skin off me.”  I yelped as I felt her sharp talons pinch my ballsack and lift me up “I think I have a friend that could use a new toy.  I wouldn’t want to be selfish.  You don’t have any STDs do you?”

“Yes, all of them, and it’s radioactive to boot, you don’t want to be anywhere near it” Please work.

“Oh?  I guess I better do a blood test to make sure.  Do be sure to behave yourself in the meantime, I’ll try to keep you from being bored... Hm... I think my foot warmers tests came in... ah, yes both clear, I’ve got a spot for you!  Should only be for a couple days, no worries!”  Well, fuck.    The line went dead, no one says goodbye anymore.  The lack of courtesy of some people. 

My lethargy had largely been turned into anger and determination, with some horror and sheer desperation added in, I frantically got to work.  At least, as frantically as once could wade through the video footage that is.  To my horror, the lighting had been bad, I don’t have a license plate number, hell, I barely have some pictures of Bigfoot the prime suspect.

I wanted to think about this more- but my attention was soon taken by rough hands scrubbing me raw with beyond hot water- though it could be worse- it could be freezing cold I suppose. 

It made me blush and disgusted, despite the pain, as I felt myself growing hard in her merciless hands.   Even remembering how my likely suspect had looked didn’t bring it down, nor did baseball- I knew I should have watched more sports. 

Then ‘I’ was getting pounded dry between a couple towels, there may have been some whimpering and crying- Dicks aren’t all tough, their penises and balls less so.  Few guys can take a real pounding in the balls without a whimper, those guys... they scare me. 

Not long after I was being placed in... what was that, it felt like being shoved through a long tunnel and... the material seemed smooth, leather?

The foot that came after hurt.  Squeezing into leather boots at the best times can be a challenge, this was worse as her for some unholy reason bare foot was painfully squeezed past my now flaccid pecker, her heel was crushing the head of my penis, and worse, the part just past the heel was partly on my balls, though I suppose the reverse would be worse.   Hell, for the first time I was glad I was a grower rather than a shower really. 

More movement and... I nearly whited out in pain as she stood up, and then stood on one foot- the one with me under it, rocking back and forth it felt like something was going to pop, and I was only lucky my testes were under her arch and she wasn’t a complete flatfoot.  I couldn’t even scream, so severe the pain, and despite the risks, I knew I had to do something when the whiteness of my vision receeded- the rhythmic pressure increases of her walking bringing me near to my knees, as it was I was leaning heavily on the sink. 

When the movement mostly stopped- save the occasional pressure increase of heel on penis or ball and sometimes both as I realized I was on her right foot as if that helped- and she was driving. 

By that time I noticed the missing call and voice mail I had slept through. 

I played it “Hey uh... something changed, she... I think I’m inside her vagina, it’s... it’s kinda nice but she didn’t do anything but put me in, and I guess put on panties or something, she’s squeezing but... just teasing me I guess, it... It’s not all bad, I guess, but I still want it back.”  
     
Ah, Squirrel... You lucky bastard, trade ya?  Then I remembered the sasquatch I had met last night and took it back.

Really, if it weren’t for the pain, the pleasure would be the worst part- as she had settled down and wasn’t being quite as rough it felt... not great- sweaty and it’s feet, which made my bile rise thinking about, but.. it’s warm flesh and the natural reaction was there- though not showing much from the sheer lack of space. 

Shaking it off, I loaded all the footage from my cellphone and camera glasses to the computer and, I went through it frame by frame, zooming in, and managed to get a couple numbers but that was it, which was disappointing, why couldn’t life be like those cop shows?  I’d just shout “Enhance it!”  and it’d be zoomed in, crystal clear. Still, a couple of the stills had a decent picture of her, now if only I could run it through some database, it’d be perfect. 

By the time I was finished, she was up and walking again, though not quite as.. forcefully, it was still immensely distracting, and... really, for the pain relief if nothing else I smoked another leftie cigarette.  It helped, especially as I was starting to feel the itchy drying sweat which was an added disgust to the horror and pain. 

A quick cold shower helped, not enough by a long shot, but a little.

I then called up Sam.  Sam wasn’t the best detective, but he worked cheap.  I used him as a subcontractor on some big cases sometimes when I had to be in two places at once, or just didn’t feel up to the stake out, it cut into my profits but that was okay.  More importantly, no one knew or should have known our connection. 

“Hey Sam, I need you to stake out and trail a woman for me- potential thief stole some guy’s jewels apparently, I need an address, name and all that.”

“Sure, things are pretty lean though...”  Great he’s going to negotiate me up, he can always tell when I really need help and when I’m just being lazy.  Still, I had little choice for someone as reliable and discrete, speaking of “Oh, and she absolutely can’t know you’re looking for her or following her- talk to no one, be seen by no one- I’ll send you the pictures of her in a bit but she seems to go to Sotty’s after work sometimes- don’t know where she works though...”

“Got it drama queen.”  
     
“Alright, thanks Sam.” I said, and... He hung up without another word.  Doesn’t anyone follow proper phone etiquette anymore?


	5. 9 out of 10 podiatrists agree, Dicks make for poor shoe inserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoes are not places Dicks should wear anywhere but on their feet, but we don't always get what we want.

After all that frantic activity- and a few more phone calls including calling Detective Collins for any updates and trying- and failing to sweet talking him into searching the license plate- at least the partial plate. No dice on him or the DMV- not everything I do works, but it didn’t hurt to try. 

I got a bathroom break earlier than Squirrel had or maybe my bladder control was simply better- but I’m betting Bigfoot learned her lesson from him. In any case the foot was removed and the sheer pain of blood flowing back into it was an agony that had me taking a minute to asses that yes I was on something cold and hard, and a finger was tapping my penis head rather impatiently, and another few seconds to go, figuring it might be hours upon hours before I was given another chance and not liking my chances should I pee in her shoe. 

I sighed in relief as I finished pissing, and groaned as my abused flesh was roughly wiped with what I assume was toilet paper and I was soon back in the same situation as before, worse really as the washing wasn’t quite as bad as the mornings and I was erect, meaning her toes were on my balls. Can’t she just use a proper shoe insert like a normal person? The gel ones are fantastic, penises can’t be good for a person’s feet. 

I wondered if there was a union for people with separated body parts, amputees anonymous or something? I wanted a proper union, I wanted to file a complaint. 

I grew erect and soft and semi erect again- this time with my balls remaining under her toes and my penis unable to grow past her heel, with no relief in sight, just more pain as she noticed and seemed to enjoy it if her ever renewed pressure on my penis and balls were any indication, as if taunting my blue balls. 

Aside from going to work- which I’d already had written off as a personal day- I’d still be billing for this of course if I got out in one piece- direct harm was in the contract- hazard pay or however the shark I had paid to write it up had put it. Not to mention hiring an underling didn’t come cheap, might as well let him earn his keep, as there was no way to concentrate on much of anything as things were. 

I was only partly successful distracting myself and as I felt the walking and pedal action, I figured it was only a matter of time till I got the phone call with her address in a nice neat bow. 

But then I was washed yet again- if slightly less harshly than before I was so tender that it hurt like hell anyway, and I was left to dry in the freezing cold sink.

There I lie, the cold numbing my pain, but ... it was fucking freezing!

The call never came, I ended up calling Sam myself around the time I left last night, but he hadn’t seen anyone matching the picture and didn’t I know how late it was?

I told him to stake out the place the next day, but no more after that, figuring she had bailed on Sotty’s after I made her, disappointing but not entirely unexpected. 

Going to sleep that night was hard, ever go to sleep with just your genitals freezing cold? It isn’t easy, I hope my one-eyed anaconda doesn’t get a cold, I can hardly take him to the vet- they frown on that sort of thing for some reason. 

I woke up sensations on my cock and balls, it wasn’t a Pompeii wake-up call, but rather being roughly grabbed by my sore balls and a phone call. 

I struggled up, her hand using my balls as a stress ball squeezing them with every ring and letting go only when the sound stopped over and over again, calling a couple more times until I reached it through the pain and answered.

“H-hello” I squeaked out “Good morning sunshine, go ahead and piss now... Hurry it up, you want me to get impatient?”

Pissing yesterday had been awkward and had taken considerable time, but nothing like the pressure to really fuck up your day, it took an awkward minute- after which she even asked snidely “Would it help if I turned the water on?” before I managed to let go of my bladder, if this went on much longer I might consider a piss bag of my own. 

“Good boy!” she said, patting my penis like it was a dog, “Now, you’ll be happy to know you don’t have any STDs, at least none they could detect, so be a good boy for your new owner too!”

New... New owner? What the fuck you psycho bitch? I didn’t say it out-loud, fear holding my tongue. I noted that the STD test had come in extremely quick, did she work at a hospital, or have a friend or family member working at one?

“By the way, you may want to not drink anything until it’s pulled out, if you don’t want your bladder to explode, if you die and I sell someone a corpse’s penis they’ll leave horrible reviews- you know how it is”

I swallowed heavily “Please just-” She hung up before I could make a heartfelt plea to return my genitals, damn it, I worked on that for hours! She didn’t even say goodbyes!

Worse yet... she was selling my penis and balls? What kind of fucked up bitch was this?

***

I was washed yet again, though out of consideration of me- or more likely whoever she was giving my genitals to, she was far more gentle, which nearly had me cumming, before I was shaken dry a bit and toweled off. 

Wait, back up, did she say my bladder might explode if I drank too much? Why the fuck, how!

The reason why became clear as I got grabbed again and to my horror stuffed something cold and rubbery inside of my penis, something long with beads on it, shoving those past my urethra and into my penis. It felt... too much. It.. wasn’t horrible- it wasn’t getting your balls and penis crushed by a foot or even balls slapped bad- but it was uncomfortable, a bit painful. Worse than that, the sensations were strange and just too much, at times even feeling sort of good. Then it went deeper still and into my bladder, and I definitely felt that.

My first thought was that it was a catheter of some sort, which made no sense- why would she tell me to get a catheter if she was going to stick one in me herself?

Then it started pumping up which hurt like a “Mother-Fucker!”, I cursed. I read somewhere once that cursing helps you deal with pain, that was my excuse . I was left with a throbbing painful cock, the pumping finally stopped, and I couldn’t piss if I had or wanted to. 

Meanwhile she was sliding a finger over the bumps on the outside of the urethra tube on the underside of my penis, which felt far too much, I nearly came just from her finger! Before that happened I was set on a towel and wrapped up like a burrito, and shoved into a small space, a box I guessed, she... she was shipping my penis? What the fuck, does she realize how many packages get lost or irreparably damaged each year?

I felt sick to my stomach as I called an Uber- this really was getting costly for Squirrel but I needed to go to the post office to see if I could spot her, and I didn’t know if I’d be in a state to drive home myself- I had retrieved the van from the bar of course. I had poked my head in briefly- and bought a lighter and pack of smokes- I didn’t smoke tobacco often having mostly quit, but I felt like I needed it. She hadn’t been there- probably a good thing- since I was in her boot at the time I would have probably done horrible things to her to retrieve my precious if I had to, or worse she might have recognized me- despite the cheap wig and beard disguise I had sported and done a runner. I winced at the thought. 

When the Uber arrived at the post office I was being carried and driven- or so I assumed and felt. It was a few minutes of impatience on the Uber’s drivers part when I felt myself being carried again before being set aside. I groaned, there was no helping it. Telling the confused Uber driver the change of plans, I had him drive me home as I could hardly bust into a post office and demand my package, and it was very obviously not this post office if it was one in any case, it could very well be a hand delivery. 

I had considered going to the hospital- getting one of those tubes to bypass my penis like Squirrel had, but... any surgery contains a risk, and besides that, I simply couldn’t abide by the humiliation of a piss bag. 

***

At home, I found that it was only eleven AM, what a hellish start to a day.

I sat down on my lazy boy, torn between a cigarette to sooth my nerves, a left handed cigarette to do more, or nothing to try to feel for clues- like that would happen, in the end I did nothing save have a cigarette. It helped calm me a bit. 

I briefly tried the TV but that didn’t help distract me sufficiently, daytime TV was awful, and music was worse- I didn’t realize how much of my computer was devoted to smutty songs, maybe all those overprotective overbearing parents had a point about music today being trashy? Nah. 

Of course, the box wasn’t completely idle- as far as I could tell it was loaded up on a truck, a rather bumpy ride. Despite my worries of it being too cold I had the opposite problem, my balls were practically gushing sweat it was so hot, non air-conditioned back of a truck explained it neatly I thought.

Worse than that was the thing inside my penis, the slightest movement of the box sent the sensation through more than a bit, and my bladder wasn’t liking it, not at all. 

I considered going into the office, but I couldn’t imagine I’d get much work done- if a client came at all- usually they called first and I’d been ignoring them, bad practice- so I started calling them back telling them I was on a case that needed my full attention, mostly true. I ignored Squirrel again- I couldn’t tip the woman off- I may be out of her reach but Squirrel’s penis wasn’t, and I had to assume the person she was sending me to had her contact information and vise versa.

A few more phone calls to friends and the few remaining family that had left messages or texts, and I was done catching up on that front. 

I then went over everything on the case and came up with a few things I had missed or had forgotten. The woman claimed to be a Christian at the bar- obviously she wasn’t a very good one considering theft and state of my genitals. Christians went to churches, well, some of them. I immediately called up Sam saying to look for the same woman on Sunday at Christian churches near the Sotty’s. It wasn’t going to be easy by a long shot- Las Vegas, despite being the city of sin had a shit load of churches- over 500 and counting. 

But... I didn’t have much hope for finding my penis there obviously- maybe she kept a black book that said where she sent.. well, me. I doubted it, but it was possible. Also there was the chance she was lying, was keeping it, but I doubted it- she would have nothing to gain from the ruse. Still, it could possibly close my case with Squirrel and get me some much needed funds- especially since I need a week or so to heal up before doing anything strenuous. 

Hmp, at least I won’t need to piss in a bottle on long steak outs anymore, always look on the bright side. It was always awful when I forgot to clear those out- especially on one memorable date... I shook my head, clearing my thoughts of that particular shit show, or piss show as the case may be. Still, I’d much rather have my penis back. 

I also did a bit of research on the missing genitals online, and... the problem was more serious than everyone was giving it credit for- written off as being crazies that hacked off their own body parts or accused of photoshopping. These men were being given the same disbelief Americans gave over superstitious people thinking witches were shrinking their penises, but there were so many of the stories online, all sounding different, I found myself scared. Why was this happening? 

It wasn’t just penises either- I... I found myself feeling oddly lucky in that I was only missing my penis and balls. Assholes weren’t immune from it, nor were nipples, arms, legs- there was one poor person out there that was just a body, and just their head was missing- but everyone and their mother was calling it a hoax or a zombie- there was even a petition to destroy it. I couldn’t tell what was real or fake for sure but... The photos all showed the same thing, perfect light skin where the missing body parts should be.

I wondered how it was done in the first place, before deciding Bigfoot had to have doubled back and followed me home, I was drunk enough that I was nearly dead to the world as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

Still, I would have felt it and woke up if my cock was cut off by a knife or something- so.. there had to be something going on enabling it. Magic? A deal with demons or Satan? Alien technology? I don’t know- and neither did anyone else- not for sure, but... It’d only take one person with a nanny cam in their bedroom, or a peeping Tom at the window or perhaps one of these ghouls turning traitor on the rest for the mystery to be solved, right?

In any case, it was far bigger a problem than I had assumed. 

One good thing came out of it- one of the people that had lost half her body from the waist down was a nurse and claimed to be able to hear from her other half through a stethoscope, not well- but it was something. I had a high end audio recorder somewhere- it wouldn’t be tough to put it in my underwear and turn it on as needed. I set to putting fresh batteries in one and put it in my pocket for now, it had limited battery life and a limited memory card- I couldn’t just keep it running forever, I’d wait until the box was opened- I probably wouldn’t be able to hear anything through all those towels anyway. 

A large dinner to make up for my missed lunch, though skipping on liquids as I already had to pee a bit, and a toke later hoping it’d take the edge off, and spent some time thinking what I would do. I couldn’t stake out churches myself- too much of a risk- and just in case the woman kept in contact with whoever she sent my genitals to, I hardly could risk telling the cops about my situation lest she contact them and have them d...destroyed. Still, it... it might be better than constant pain or whatever the new owner decided to do with them. Shame Dick and his agency were my only go to’s for contracting out work. 

Really, aside from the audio bug I’d place in my underpants to try and listen for names, addresses and what have you to try and track down my own genitals... I was out of constructive things to do. I couldn’t even keep up with my daily exercises needing to pee and with all these crazy interruptions, though I’d have to do it anyway eventually if I wanted to stay in shape. 

I ended up distracting myself with anything I could when all I really wanted was a long piss, before I finally managed to get to sleep.


	6. Pleading For Lesbians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish for what most men wish for- lesbian action happening right in front of me, then they ask me to join in. Oh, sure, the dynamics are different, but it's what I hope for.

    I woke up after feeling like I had been kicked in the balls and couldn’t help letting out a fairly loud “Mother fucking hell!” as it felt like I would have pissed myself if my painfully full bladder wasn’t blocked, as it was my bladder hurt.   Thankfully my neighbors were already gone or were dead asleep, at least I didn’t hear anyone yelling at me.

I fruitlessly clutched at the place where my balls and penis should be, closing my legs- only barely helping relieve the pain and pressure of a full bladder. 

I groaned as I was picked up it felt amazingly good despite the pain just recently and I figured out what had happened as I slowly got up  and going to the bathroom- just because I didn’t need to piss didn’t mean my other bodily functions stopped.

My guess is they unboxed me, and unrolled the towel and my privates did a belly flop on floor. 

I was glad that it was just getting washed-  not only were they sweaty as hell, but it was being treated far more gently than I had feared, and blessedly it was with a hand with decent sized nails- not jagged- and soft...   Most likely a woman.  That cheered me up a fair bit as I crossed my legs- not helping nearly as much as usual, I wish she’d let me fucking piss already.  

Finally the sounding plug- I had looked it up yesterday- was yanked on without releasing the air, nearly tearing my sheets as I gave out another “Mother Fuck-” before gritting my teeth in pain and leaned heavily on the shower wall.  Thankfully she figured out how to release the air and pulled it out fairly easily, if not entirely painlessly, and immediately piss gushed out the enlarged hole like a geyser.

It had hurt coming out- but it hurt worse when it and the piss was gone, air should not be there, I felt as tender as a steak should be.  Then I had my pisshole washed out.  I don’t recommend it.  I was soft throughout it hurt so bad- despite the gentle hand holding, well, me.  She finished and I rinsed off and got out of the shower drying myself sitting on the toilet fearing what might be next and taking care of other business. 

My dick was upturned, water pouring out of the abused hole- before being patted dry, and soon after.. I couldn’t help moaning when my dick was licked a few times- I hadn’t gone this long without cumming in months, and despite the soreness I was soon rock hard. 

Much to my disappointment and relief a condom was put on my dick.  On one hand I really wanted to cum, on the other... well, I hardly wanted to pay child support for a rape baby- and knowing just how fucked up the legal system is I just know I’d end up having to pay it no matter the circumstances- considering how even sperm donors sometimes ended up having to pay- mostly those that didn’t go through sperm banks... Like me. 

I felt my penis head getting rubbed against something, and another hand cradling my balls before I was being slowly pushed in to a tight familiar happy place.  It was awkwardly done- and it hurt a little as I was grabbed around my balls and the end of my penis when her previous hand hold went inside of her- and it was definitely a her, before slowly- tortuously slowly being pulled out, which hurt a bit from the pressure on my abused balls, before being pushed back in. 

She managed to get a very slow rhythm going and was soon rubbing her clit- I assumed, while using me to supplement her actions. 

She only sped up gradually- so along with the condom it took me a good ten minutes till I came buckets, but still she didn’t stop- but.. well, I became flaccid.  I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised when I was thrown to the side in frustration, but I was, and it hurt- physically and... well, it felt like I was used and thrown away, not a good feeling.

At least it landed on carpet... I just hoped she didn’t have pets.  I shuddered, and got up, I was too sober for this shit.  I almost never waked and baked- it took more for a lesser effect I found- better to wait at least a few hours but... with the pain in my balls and penis ... I decided to go big or go home and went to my stash box that I kept semi- hidden that carried all my paraphernalia.   It wasn’t illegal or anything, just some left handed tobacco after all- but it was habit from my teenage days, and it could easily get stolen if I just left it out. 

Looking at the contents of the hollowed out encyclopedia, I knew I’d be having to make a trip to the dispensary today- hopefully before anything bad happened, and groaned- I didn’t want to risk getting too high and wasting the day away before I managed, so reluctantly I got up and dressed.

It was on the drive over that my genitals were picked up by the skin of my balls- with a pinch that hurt only a little and carried away, condom disposed of and getting washed far less gently than before, and I winced, I was suddenly feeling bad for cumming too early, I shouldn’t be so stupid though- trying to prolong it not only would have been hard after so long without- but why in the world should I do anything for a sausage thief?

Besides, the kind of people that did this would as likely as not make excuses to hurt the other person- whether you pleased them or not, so you might as well piss them off- it wasn’t like I had much control over my penis and balls, but I could do that much, no holding back from cumming, I’d take what little pleasure I had for myself leaving them with as little as possible, a small revenge, but it was something I could manage. 

Maybe I’d even start on medication to make me impotent?  Nah, they’d just switch to hurting me all the time or throwing it away and I’d never find it... 

“One plant please” I asked politely- but in all seriousness after the guy snorted I looked at the menu- and ended up picking up a handful, until this resolved I saw myself on semi vacation. 

Of course- the woman wasn’t being idle and had peeled off my condom and given me a decent wash and another chance to piss which I took never knowing when another would come- washing me rougher than before but not as painful as Bigfoot did, before drying me off and slapping my balls- fairly lightly I must admit but I still flinched looking like a crazy person. 

“It’s my bad back acting up again” Sure- I wasn’t really on medical- but I’ll be damned if I tell every Tom, Dick and Harry about getting my patty whacked after my my patty was high jacked. 

I rushed home, having forgotten the plan in the wake of everything, meanwhile I was  held against something cold, then tapped on the head of the penis, before a small dunk before raising it back up and I realized it was a toilet and felt sick, toilet water dripping from my penis.   I got the idea but... barely anything came out- I’d already pissed, eventually she gave up, before washing the tip off with soap, and I was grateful soapy water couldn’t get into my bladder- though the hole had gradually been shrinking in size it felt like, before the very harrowing experience of getting my balls shaved without being able to see it happening, I was forced to pull over because it was far too distracting and I feared what would happen if I was nicked and jerked the wheel. 

I was a nervous wreck by the time it was over, I was rinsed off well and left half rolled in a towel by the time I felt able to keep driving. 

I was left alone for a while, long enough to get home, and shove the audio bug in my underpants, before smoking a leftie cigarette and finish half a rightie cigarette before the towel was unfolded and I was picked up again. 

I was surprised- usually women had a far lower sex drive than men, but instead of anything fun though that’s debatable, I was taken somewhere my balls played with like a stress ball before being tossed on I suppose a desk or counter.

Then I was picked up again and had my balls and what little foreskin give I had being pulled towards “my” front before getting duct taped so I would stay that way, oh god that was going to hurt when it came off, hell, it hurt a bit now.  I was set back down and... OW!  Fuck!  Why the hell would anyone do this to someone else!

Something sharp was being pressed into the skin where my genitals should be attached to my body and going back out, and in and and out, it hurt- it hurt like hell, and to make matters worse  It was only when it was tightened- imagine small friction burns from sutures in your balls and penis- that I realized I was now attached to something fairly hard- and that was ...well, wet, and slowly she pressed the skin- through my balls and by pressing down on my penis hard onto a surface that I realized I was  glued and sewn onto something that was hard- maybe plastic with holes drilled into it?

Worse yet, I was getting pressed against it until the glue set well enough, a couple painful minutes, before being left like that.  I was sweating heavily, the pain had been... terrible really, it was still fairly bad.  Surprisingly the needle on my penis hurt far worse than my balls, but neither were a picnic, and I was getting sore from the duct tape as well.

I finished my cigarette shakily after relighting it on the third try, then another by the time I was carefully freed from the duct tape, and picked up, not by the cock or balls, but by something else.

I only figured out what that something was when she screwed my balls and penis onto it, and strapped it into place.  She had apparently sawn off the end of a screw on strapon, drilled holes in it, and had sewn and glued that side to me. 

I ... I was a living strap on dildo, what the fuck was wrong with these people?

She then started bouncing, my dick and balls moving painfully up and down and all around- more from the fresh stitches and from her total disregard for the safety of my balls than any real risk of it falling off, before I was given a few brief yanks as if she was going to masturbate like a guy- but aside from getting me semi-hard, that was the end of her sick experiment as she unstrapped me and carried me away, unscrewing and washing me yet again- this time from whatever blood there was as well as from the duct tape residue, before drying me off and setting me on a towel in the open air, and with a patronizing pat I was left alone once more, blue balls engaged, though in this case they were probably red and blue balls, all American testicles if you will. 

I took the lull to smoke some more- as well as see what the audio recorder had, well recorded- and to replace it’s batteries and clear the card as soon as I had uploaded it all. 

What I got was nothing save that she liked to hum while she worked, or hell, she might have been singing and all I could hear from it was a hum.  I tried cranking up the volume but it didn’t help much.   
     
The only thing I really got out of the experience information-wise was that she was quite probably married judging from the ring on her ring finger, which, with the strapon really didn’t bode well.  For the first time in my life, I hoped a woman I’d had sex with was a lesbian. 

***

   I had a late lunch after the ‘excitement’ of that morning, and ended up digging deeper into the rabbit hole of what news stations had finally picked up as real that morning- which I had missed due to sleeping in.  They were calling it "faux leprosy”, and it was a big problem, underreported for reasons like mine. 

They had the breakthrough- a traitor in their midst admitting everything.  It was honest to god teleportation, of a sort.  Splinching, a term someone stole from Harry Potter’s teleportation mishaps was not the rare exception or accident- but rather the rule- that’s why it wasn’t seen in wide use- so the Military turned it into a healing device- someone’s got a mangled arm or leg or something on the field, just teleport away the painful bits- they usually had them  reattached with metal screws or something of the sort, there was no “cure”, no easy fix- cutting off and sewing them back on was too risky- you could reject your own body parts and as they functioned decently as is, it wasn’t seen as worth the risk. 

Around 3:30 I was screwed back onto the strapon- one that was already on the woman,  and tapped on the top of my penis head again- and again- while being held inexpertly..  I eventually got the idea when she spread my urethra, and started pissing- while being held- hard because I grew hard during it, and with a few hard shakes and washing it with a piece of toilet paper. 

She then put on a pair of way too tight panties tucking me in with her fingers, which was even more humiliating, and finally the tightest pants imaginable, it... it hurt and was uncomfortable, and confused the hell out of me. 

Was she a transgender or what?  Why else would she want to wear a penis in pants tight enough to show a bulge? 

I only learned the full events later after putting together pieces from the audio, it would be a common occurrence, common enough that anyone reading these memoirs may find frustrating if I didn’t ignore the timeline a bit and got a better bug early- and while I did get one a couple days later after seeing how sound did transfer through, I won’t bore you with splitting it up into two separate parts. 

Aside from rubbing “her” penis through the tight jeans occasionally, nothing of much note happened for an hour and a half, though I did come up with an idea- though finding a doctor to carry it out would be a challenge- to thread one of those small cameras through my bladder and out my penis, or a small GPS device? Maybe I could do it myself going in through just the skin, but would I be willing to risk it is the question.  Finding a doctor to do it would be a challenge and a half, maybe a vet will be a better option even?

I added it to my notes as a possible solution- though.. if she caught on to it, hell if she saw the camera sticking out....  Well, I was sure the penis and balls would end up destroyed at worst, flushed down the toilet or at the city dump at best.  Or was that the other way around?

It was a brief touch- nothing more- and hard to tell from just my penis and balls, but I would guess a quick hug and kiss- maybe on the cheek.   It was enough for me to turn back on the audio bug, and I was right to do so as I later found out the couple made small talk- the person that came home  complaining about their job- sadly not saying their company name- or any last name-  and frustratingly I found out later they were still in the cutesy nickname phase- I somehow doubt I’ll find Sweetums and Honey Buns in the phone book. 

After dinner the person wearing me pulled their pants  down along with her panties, and she sat down, a couple quick taps on the top of my penis head I didn’t need and I started pissing again.   When you get a chance to piss, you piss.  Thankfully despite my worries I wasn’t inconsistent at least- that was something.   
     
I was still hoping they were lesbians- I didn’t have real time on my audio yet you’ll recall. 

I didn’t learn the other person got led into a whole freaking sex dungeon until later either, put in stocks bent over and locked in place with a padlock- legs spread with a spreader bar and strapped on, with an open mouth gag- with a dildo plug in place, completely nude. 

The ‘wife’ as I thought of her walked around the other person, and after a vigorous spanking was soon fingering their asshole much to the person’s pleasure through his muffled moans, before undressing- out of their sight entirely. 

All I knew at that time was she was doing something vigorous before undressing, and rubbing me with lube until I grew hard. 

Being pressed against the hairy slightly gaping asshole, I prayed for a hairy lesbian, as the woman expressed his surprise at the penis through vigorous thrashing at his bonds- but apparently they didn’t believe in safe words or the person wearing me was willing to rape both full and partial people, as I was slowly pushed into the man part way, pulled completely out and pushed in further each time until I was balls deep, and she slowly started working my penis in and out of them, gradually faster. 

All the while I was praying it was a woman, the not knowing was killing me. 

I felt my bile rise, just thinking about it- I have nothing against gay people- hell here I was hoping for lesbians- but I’m as straight as an arrow.

Regardless of the chance that I was fucking some guy’s asshole, my body was working against me, despite trying not to think about it, turning on the TV and trying to focus on that and just that. 

Finally it finished and I was pulled out- I hadn’t cum but I didn’t much care, I just wanted it to be over with.

Then she pulled out the ring gag’s cock plug, and soon I was being pressed into a warm mouth that felt amazing even as they tried getting away from it frantically, pushing against it with their tongue, shaking their head.  I felt illogically guilty and tried not to as I was pushed all the way in away, and to my disgust puked over my presumably feces covered cock.  I was taken out and a loud slap was heard before I was shoved back in, and I felt the gagging on my now semi hard cock- vomit really didn’t do it for me- and she just kept slowly putting it in and taking it out letting the other person breathe adding frustration onto it.   They didn’t puke again- and I was being held in longer and longer- it was a slow agony until finally, despite everything, I came down their throat. 

Of course the person wearing me had no way of knowing that and kept going until I was far too flaccid to before ordering them to lick me clean otherwise she’d leave the penis there. 

Then pulling out only enough to tap my penis head, confused I didn’t get it right away before she tapped my urethra, twice- seemed to be standard with “it’s time to piss taps”, and I started pissing despite my misgivings after a few seconds.  As soon as I started I was being shoved into the mouth, though not as deep, though still the coughing and- gagging continued.  I was taken out and put back in a couple times while pissing,  you don’t stop a stream mid way, or at least I wasn’t used to doing so.   
     
She put the plug back in their mouth and left to wash me off- which I was grateful for, though I certainly didn’t feel the least bit clean, even after.  I was left on a towel- covered like it was a blanket  with only the head sticking out and aimed at the sink- she did the double tap on head and urethra this time- before she returned and presumably untied the other person. 

I only got bits and pieces but they were yelling loud enough that I understood she had gone too far according to the other person- who to my deep annoyance sounded androgynous enough that I simply couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. 

It had apparently been a confession that the other person had always had fantasies of a surprise threesome with a heavy dose of bondage, but was unprepared for the reality of it.

I didn’t hear much more though as they either shut the door, took the conversation elsewhere, started using their indoor voices, or maybe they just made up. 

I myself was spent and without the need to clean up I went to sleep feeling numb.


	7. FUBAR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucked Up Beyond Recognition, like my life.

  
Saturday morning I woke up and went to the bathroom and tried getting out my penis for a piss, before remembering the hell that was my life. 

I couldn’t tell for sure it was still safe to piss- but it felt like I was still on the towel with my head exposed, so I took the risk and did it anyway, while showering- no worries I wasn’t peeing in the shower, I was just peeing while I happened to mostly be in the shower, I thought, with a grin that was quickly wiped away by reality. 

I had breakfast and I was cleaned sometime after but aside from that nothing else happened which worried me, the uncertainty, but evidently they made up- from what little I could gather through later audio recordings and made a full fledged deal- they’d take turns raping the other without rule or reason, taking turns of who got me for the day. Full power exchange or something like that, switching each day who was “it”. 

But I learned that later, the first hint of it was being grabbed by a rougher hand than the other day, one that had very short nails, I shuddered. Mentally I added another tally for the “It’s a man” to my disgust, turning on the audio recorder and putting it in my briefs. 

To my further disgust yet again my penis didn’t discriminate between genders and grew hard as I was taken somewhere. They made small talk- the woman’s voice nervous, the androgynous sounding person with a slight tinge of anger and perhaps a bit of lust though I couldn’t make out the words- my audio bug was too far away lacking a penis and balls left a lot of space down there- but I had no way of finding that out until after. 

She got hogtied on an old mattress they kept down there- or so I imagined, tied certainly from the sounds with duct tape of all things.

I was picked up and sucked to my disgust by the person with rough hands, my reaction was preordained, I grew hard again, and not long after I was being pressed into the woman’s far less hairy asshole as she could be heard saying no over and over through her gag. Her asshole was unbelievably tight and aside from his saliva it was as dry as a bone, and the person simply pressed my penis painfully against it- it was far less hairy which was good, then slowly adding pressure until I was suddenly balls deep- the bound woman howled in agony at that through her own penis gag ring gag combo, struggling to break free with far more fury than the other person had shown. 

To my surprise the hand retreated from me.

My balls were then tied tight with a a thin soft rope before being tied around the woman’s waist so there was no chance of me falling out save growing completely flaccid, and even then...

The struggles to get away died down and when I replayed it I heard each and every loud crack of the whip and her panicked attempts for it to stop by any means necessary. It didn’t help her, just as it didn’t help the other. 

What I felt on the other hand was as if a wolverine’s claws had slashed against my balls - and from her reaction- her ass and pussy, the super glued and sewn on addition to me only protecting a small area of the “back” of my penis from harm. 

I yelped the first time and was sure I was dying on the 10th, muffling myself with a pillow, tears freely flowing, each whipping hurting more than the last, her asshole tightening painfully on my increasingly flaccid cock. By the 20th I was incoherent with pain, and even after my balls felt like they were on fire, as the person walked around and said something- I only caught the trail end “- don’t see what you’re complaining about.” as he removed her penis gag and before her hoarse voice could protest was face fucking her with it. 

It didn’t last too long, and less than a minute after that I was being untied, balls included, and given a brief break between the tied woman’s tied tits.

It didn’t last long of course, as I was soon being pressed into her mouth deep, balls up so I didn't even have the comfort of a tongue in the right place- and when she gagged or choked I was removed sometimes for a few minutes- until finally she could handle my whole length controlling herself with an iron will. It was frustrating and from the pain from my balls horrible- they felt like they were throbbing in pain. 

For my part, I’d guess I was placed balls up partly because it would be less pleasurable to me with the shaft away from her tongue, in either case he finished by taping around me securely to her mouth and around her head. hurting my balls further from stretching them. 

From the hot air coming through her nose- and around my penis she was able to breath, barely- and from the snot coming from her mouth and drops that occasionally landed on my balls she was crying, I almost felt bad for her, but I had problems of my own- I needed to piss- the person had grabbed me without giving me a last chance to- and didn’t give me the okay to- I feared what they would do if I pissed anyway but.... I already had my balls whipped my balls and used me. 

I hardly had any sympathy for her.

Still, it could be worse as today had shown... Fuck these choices...

I took the chance to smoke a bowl to relieve my pain after I cleaned up my face, and tried distracting myself. It didn’t help much, eventually I simply couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

I pissed, the only thing stopping me from an uninterrupted stream being the fear of my penis fed to a dog if I killed the person’s significant other, so in brief spurts I pissed feeling her literally choke it down- it going straight down her throat practically she had little choice.  They only vomited once and managed to choke the majority of that down too, probably in fear of drowning if they didn’t, while trying and failing to lean her head far enough so she didn’t have to- or maybe she was shaking her head telling me not to? 

In either case I finished pissing and felt slightly satisfied having got back at the woman. 

It seemed to last for hours- the accidental tongue brushes and the feeling of being inside making me go from soft to hard over and over again, blue balls for days- and I was feeling the need to piss again and struggling to hold it in, before the other person came back, untying the woman- and retying her after in a new position, what I have no idea but the end result was her screaming and choking on my cock- so I’ll assume it was once anal of some sort, this time not with me. 

I was taken out of her mouth, near shit free as far as I could tell- but still the short naileds person washed me throughly thankfully- it hurt- not only the hot soapy water on my sore possibly somewhat cut up balls but on my penis as well- having wet skin for that long hurt, especially in sensitive places. 

Of course- it wasn’t over, not by a long shot. 

Apparently my wounds had been superficial, or maybe he just didn’t care- in either case not even thirty minutes later I was picked up by the same rough hands- and soon after I was being strapped onto the strap on- and being put on by the person with rough hands- and found they were extremely hair as well, which didn’t bode well- but I couldn’t tell if I was behind a penis or vagina, the hard back of the strap on providing no help in that regard. 

They put on underpants of some sort- slightly looser than the panties had been- those had been properly lacy, another depressing tally for the “It’s a man” column. Jeans went on next- mercifully less tight than the woman had worn over me, upping the score to man 4, woman 0, and was soon driving away instead of fucking her with me to my confusion. 

The person had a plan apparently- one make sure I wouldn’t be used against them tomorrow- or for potentially a week or two. 

Either the person made an appointment in advance or just plain got lucky, in either case I was soon left wishing for as something as tame as getting my balls whipped.   
The pants and briefs I was strapped under were removed, and I imagine they imintated a pained expression as they gleefully watched the proceedings, as my cock and balls were repeatedly mutilated with needles and piercings.  
I didn’t learn until I listened to the recording the full tally, all I knew is it hurt, it hurt like hell, my world alight with such agony that I couldn't do more than whimmper and try to withold my screams. 

The final count was a ring piercing - a Prince Albert through my urethra and out the bottom side, a piercing on my balls- nearly on the other side called a "guiche” piercing apparently, a bunch of studs all along my penis in neat rows, two rows on top and bottom, and finally- the tattoos... Slap Me! on the right side of my balls- and “Bite Me!” on the other, and “Sissy Slave” painfully tattooed on my penis head done in rainbow colors.

It hurt- it hurt like hell, especially the penis piercings, it was all I could do to smoke more weed and bare it. 

Considering all I had been through, I made an appointment at the doctor’s for some antibiotics, but at the very least, I wouldn’t be used for a good long while.


	8. Probing For Bigfoot and Hanging Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heh, probing for Bigfoot, giggity.

  
Sunday, instead of going out and trying to find Bigfoot as much as I wanted to, I stayed in. Not only was I afraid she’d follow through on her threats she made in case I didn’t back off, but ... even though it was resting on a towel somewhere- only bothered by cleaning and changing bandages- the experience yesterday had still taken a hell of a lot out of me.  
It got worse when the short nailed one started cutting off and pulling the sutures out of me painfully, and while cleaning me worked in as much soap as water- painfully- into the gap that would likely gradually decrease, the glue failing as my skin kept growing.  
Sooner or later the cap that allowed my penis and balls to be strapped on would fall off, and I was relieved as much as I was worried for that day.  
***

It wasn’t until late that Sunday afternoon that I heard the news from Sam- she’d been found out,  the police had tipped off- nothing came of it for a days, as they wanted it perfect- while I’d been fuming and thinking they hadn’t believed it.  I was about to storm the castle and free the penises myself- just thinking about someone else going through what I went through was unbearable. 

I wasn’t invited though.  Life wasn’t some novel where everything happened and revolved around the main character, sad to say.   
I did go with Squirrel to get my DNA tested against the parts which failed to turn up anything, along with picking up his penis and get my final payment.  It wasn’t easy, pretending to be happy for the guy when I had my own problems, having held out help that Bigfoot had been lying, that it would be open and shut.

More relevant to me than money for once, I had a name, a start. 

Bigfoot’s real name was Jen Italworts, all the more reason I’d get an STD test once this was all over.  
Sure, there were no hits on the police's DNA database for my penis, but I at least had a direction!  
***  
I started the grunt work finally.  I had hoped it wasn't easy, it wasn't something I enjoyed, but I was out of ideas.  

Social engineering wasn’t one of my better talents, nor was it any quick fix- but I made a good go of it  After finding everything I could about Jen Italworts- largely through social media- I made a profile similar to hers.  Not exactly, with some added interests, randomized order, and of course a completely different name, with the face of my blonde bearded disguise at an angle that made me look different enough hopefully.

Slowly but surely I started befriending as many of her friends and family, and friends of those as well that I could, gathering as much information as I could. 

I  focused more on people in relationships more than anyone else, they were the centerpiece- the most likely contenders to the people that have my penis. 

Sadly- I still didn’t have either of their names, nor the short nailed person’s gender- which was a travesty, but then again, not a lot of conversations happen in the bathroom, and even then- I hardly even knew every time they were in there . 

***

The person with short nails and an androgynous sounding voice had taken over cleaning duties, which sucked since I figured it was almost surely a man. I figured it was their punishment for having me tattooed and pierced without the other person’s blessing.

Even if that didn’t bother me, the rough hands and slightly rougher handling than the woman did. 

After a few days, they had finally worked out the strap on piece from the back of my penis, the glue having been near completely removed from my skin from the skin, well, growing more skin cells, along with the soap and water and repeated painful attempts to peel it off. 

It was a relief- even if taking it off was painful, and after washing and disinfecting it- getting all the glue off I was set down. 

Then to my horror minutes later they were inexpertly piercing me with several thick rings where my penis and balls should be connected to my body. It hurt, it hurt far worse than the piercings from the tattoo artist, the inexperience showing, but luckily they didn’t seem to hurt anything important internally.

I was soon sprayed with painful disinfectants and bandaged again. 

All while trying to withhold screams in my crappy office. 

The second time I regretted going back to work was a few days after that memorable experience, when after the customary cleaning- my bandages weren’t reapplied. I still felt slightly sore, but, with half relief, half dismay I was carried away. On one hand it had been a while since I came- but on the other I still didn’t like the situation, nor the pains they made me experience. 

Then I felt... something.. lacing into the rings on the back of my cock and balls, and I was soon tied tightly and securely to a pair of flesh colored thong- not that I knew that last bit- only guessed. Whatever it was felt like rubber though, and didn’t bring me any closer to figuring out if it was a man or woman for sure because of the material. 

Soon the person had put on underwear and pants over me and drove away. 

I didn’t know what was happening of course, but in either case, I was on a stake out, one in which being heard screaming would be a bad thing to say the least, so with reluctance I was forced to cancel the contract if it hadn’t been for Sam being willing to take the case- or rather send one of his underlings to do it for him. Man, I wanted minions of my own, though I guess Sam sort of counted. 

I started to drive home hoping I got there before whatever fresh hell they would put me through manifested itself. 

I didn’t manage it, I was on the far side of the city, I didn’t have a chance in hell. 

It wasn’t long after that it happened, the person undressed- I quickly pulled into a parking lot and went into the back of my van, cursing when I realized I had forgotten to bring the bug I’d been using to listen in on them- all I had was one that I wouldn’t be able to hear until I got home. 

Searching frantically for an audio bug, I found that, things were looking slightly up- the person was wearing a loose flowing dress, though the material felt thin- my first tally on the “It’s a woman” column. 

Not long after that it was removed and soon the person laid down, and soon a blanket or something was put on, surrounding everything but my balls when I finally found an old audio bug, shoving it down my underwear after turning it on. 

I didn’t understand until I felt my balls pinched and the sharp sting of a needle being put in, I hissed as liquid was pumped in, and groaned as that side became numb- before it was repeated again on the other side. 

I didn’t feel much of anything, sitting worried in the back of my van, breathing heavily, praying that I wasn’t being castrated. 

It didn’t feel like much of anything- even my penis felt slightly numb, until finally it was over. 

I couldn’t wait any longer, quickly uploading the contents of the audio bug to my laptop before replacing it down my underpants, then playing it. 

I was relieved but pissed, a vasectomy was something I had been considering myself before this whole mess had started, and a quick google on my phone of phenyl mercuric nitrate after a few tries to get the spelling right revealed it meant injections that of spermicide into the balls in addition to the ...

They... They hadn’t jacked me off to collect my sperm though, which... was horrifying in a way- they didn’t care if I might have wanted children in the future- they obviously had no intention of getting rid of me. I may not have wanted children but damn was this horrifying?

Worse still, I was too late, they hadn’t said the person’s name, though as they went to a doctor for a vasectomy, I had further proof it was a guy, perhaps the most revealing piece of evidence yet. 

I was sore for days after the anesthesia wore off, but surprisingly not nearly as bad as I had feared. 

After that nothing of note happened, at least, not until my forth Saturday with the couple from hell. 

***

My bandages were taken off and I was washed as usual by the short nailed one, though this time a couple hours after I woke up like last weekend. I didn’t sleep in, I had a nightmare of them saying their names and address while I slept blissfully unaware which woke me up like a shot off and on since my captivity started, and I didn’t want to risk it. 

I turned on the audio bug before putting it in my underwear- I had switched to whitey-tighties because of it, and how humilating was that?  My faded memories of my youth of switching from them after being mocked for  being the only guy still wearing them in a high school locker room instead of boxers played in my head- but I ignored it, it wasn’t like I was going to show them off to anyone without a penis and balls filling them out anyway.

During the wash the person with short nails played with me. Never enough to make me cum- but enough to tease me- occasionally even licking or sucking me lightly once before stopping, or playing with me and masturbating, once even just sucking my head while masturbating, that had been the worst, I felt so close. 

Of course part of it was gently playing with my piercings, the rows of studs down my penis, the ring hanging out my penis head to the underside, the one on my gouche, the ones on the back of my penis and balls... They... I don’t know, it almost seemed as they amplified the pleasure a bit in an odd way. It wasn’t... It wasn’t bad, I might actually keep them even after I got it back but the tattoos had to go. 

I suppose the “Slap Me” and “Bite Me” tattoos on my balls weren’t so bad, though I didn’t care for either activity, but the rainbow colored "Sissy Slave” tattoo on the top of my cock head had to go. I tried to forget them, and most days managed to most of the time, but it was hard to when the bastard holding me was tracing the things.

I was soon dried off, and allowed graciously to piss with a couple taps on the top of my penis head- the one time I had pissed while being washed in the sink I had my balls slapped despite my tattoos-  that had stung like hell. 

Soon after was carried away to my horror and slight relief- to my self-loathing. I hadn’t gone without cumming for so long since before I had discovered masturbation, and it disgusted me that I was looking forward to finally relieving myself. 

Briefly adding to my distaste I was placed under a sweaty hairy armpit, and there was shuffling of clothes and shifting of me- causing me to wince at the occasional added pressure to my balls, until I was removed and was tied onto what felt like a strapon’s base with holes drilled through it, thin rope threaded through the ring piercings on the back of my genitals.  My mixed excitement was short lived as underwear and pants were put on over me yet again. 

I half expected it from last time but that didn’t make the situation any better as the person drove somewhere yet again. 

But... This time I heard everything live.

    “Hi, I’m Rick Meyer, here for a follow up to a vasectomy?”  I had a name!  I hadn’t been so happy in a month!  Sure, they’d confirmed it was a dude, but I had a name!  Now if only I had a state or city to narrow it down by, since it was a popular name- there was even a soon to be former NFL player called that, though who knew which spelling was right?  Somehow I doubted it was the same person.

“Here, fill this up, take one of those rooms” a female voice- a nurse or doctor said. 

“Alright, thanks”

It wasn’t long after that the person had unzipped and pulled me out from the underwear through a hole in front, another distressing sign of a male if the name hadn’t been clue enough, and I was hard near instantly- hell I would have been hard in his underpants as well but while they were looser than the woman’s, they were by no means that loose. 

It started with teasing that pissed me off and seemed to go on forever, before finally I was given a hand job cumming buckets less than twenty strokes in. Shame faced, I was soon cleaned up a bit with a tissue, beore getting tucked back inside. 

One more drive and I was soon partially let out- allowed to pee through the zipper, and as odd as getting a handjob while being worn, it was even stranger someone holding my dick like that while I peed. A few shakes and I was tucked back in, but not for long as they pulled down everything and started using the bathroom. I turned the volume down on these parts- and today was no exception, I didn’t want to hear that. 

Finally finished, I supposed, I felt them remove me- along with his pants and underwear before replacing them, and soon had me unlatched from the strapon, before being given a quick wash and dry as the person washed their hands. using me as a washcloth, and despite having came already I soon felt myself growing hard again.

Instead I felt something get attached to one of the rings on my balls, and I was soon falling and a hard tug on my balls had me nearly yell out, I grit my teeth, the weight of my penis and all the piercings was enough to cause me this much pain on it’s own? Then a hand lightly slapped me and sent my genitals spinning from the balls, tugging hard at the piercing as if it’d rip off causing me to tear up. 

It didn’t make me too dizzy but it hurt like hell.

I was soon stopped and another something hooked to my balls, before I was being dangled over something by the balls and not long after that the tip of my penis was tapped.

I understood then, I was hanging over a toilet penis facing down- they probably got sick of me pissing in the sink smelling up the place not to mention forcing them to clean it more often. 

It didn’t get much better from there, and they didn’t even have to do anything, gravity was doing their work for them, though at least I wasn’t feeling any toilet water.

It was incredibly distracting, and hurt the place where the two ring piercings on my balls that were being used by the string more with every hour that passed. Worse, every time I grew erect my penis was in the toilet water. 

The only change I noted was getting pissed on to my disgust, and the spray of the toilet water as it was flushed was highly uncomfortable. 

I was taken out only to be washed at night, then put right back where I had been before, the only saving grace other than it being the female hand is that they added more strings to different piercings so the force was spread out. 


	9. Numbnuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horrors beyond horrors within this tale, why did I ever think starting a memoir was going to end well?

  
I woke up and, feeling my numb nuts still dangling my penis over the toilet, my genitals freezing cold- my penis head dipping in the toilet water from my morning wood, I groaned. 

Taking a chance, hoping I had inturperted the situation correctly, I  took a piss while in the shower- it had become a silly sort of routine, a joke with myself that wasn’t funny, I was pissing in the shower, hardy-har-har. 

During breakfast I felt a shift in the force. Never mind, that was just someone sitting on the toilet. 

The piss came fast and hard down me, and I took the chance to pee again not knowing if I’d be taken off and washed or not. 

Then I felt something heavy and sticky being placed on my balls briefly before falling down replaced with another and to my disgust I realized I was getting shat on, and not long after toilet paper came down and removed the excrement from me, the toilet flushed, and I was vigorously washed a couple times before being toweled off, and left wrapped in the towels- not pointed at the sink at all. 

All the while the pain got worse- the sudden relief hurt more than dangling all night somehow or other. 

I was about to turn off the bug but before I could I heard the plane, and I felt as if lightning had struck me.  I could triangulate my penis and balls based on flight patterns! I quickly noted down the time and did a quick search and found a site that had plane locations real time. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before, but I would be the second to admit I wasn’t perfect, my ex had already told me as much after all, though they weren't so nice about it. 

I kept it on listening all day only hearing a few more- having to change batteries frequently, while looking through my notes, and discovered more- I knew what time zone my genitals were in by someone having said the time or when something would happen- they were in the MDT- mountain daytime time- though the second time seemed supercilious I couldn’t be happier.

Then, soon after the time I’d figured out, well the time, and started feeling the urge to pee again, my mood was wrecked as I was grabbed by the short nails again, and without being given time to pee, was taken downstairs. 

At a guess, my sperm results came in. 

In any case I soon had the back of my penis and balls being tied via the ring piercings to cold metal, and soon a hand was playing with me until I grew hard, before pushing the contraption I was on into a mouth past lips, one... one that didn’t have an open mouth gag, one that didn’t have any teeth to my shock, the gums felt slightly weird, but... who.. why?  Was... was this the same person as before?

Either they were asleep before- or blind folded, because not long after she was trying to push me out with her tongue- she didn’t seem able or willing to struggle to get away, and didn’t try to physically move away, though she did start saying “Please stop” in a thankfully feminine voice if one that seemed to have a scratchy sort of rasp and wasn’t very loud- from what tell muffled through my cock, though it sounded familiar.  It felt fantastic to know one of my tormentors was suffering, even better  than the pleasures my penis was feeling. 

Then the contraption I was attached to was turned on and to my amazement started thrusting me slowly in and out of the woman’s mouth much to her distress and my pleasure. 

It got sped up and still, to my amazement, she only barely gagged and choked on it, until I was cumming while still being thrust in and out. 

But... ,it didn’t stop, not until I was flaccid- and even then, the machine was simply turned off on it’s apex, my flaccid cock in her mouth, bent backwards inside her mouth

She tried spitting it out with no success and I felt myself growing hard again, slowly straightening out before finally it sprung full.  It took a minute before the gagging stopped, when the anadromous voice said “Drink it all now, you know what happens if you spil.l” before I felt my penis tapped on the barely exposed portion. 

Sighing, but seeing no point in not relieving myself- with a full bladder and all, I started pissing. Considering the person it was attatched to, and my slight joy in it, I let loose with my full force, not even trying to do it slow and gentle. 

The woman swallowed over and over again despite choking and coughing through it, more dribbling out of her mouth than got swallowed.   
   
Soon my bladder was empty, and I found the feeling... wasn’t bad, forcing someone to  drink foul fluids from me, and soon the dildo machine was taken away, the warm embrace of her mouth gone and... “Lick good now”

I didn’t feel anything, so I supposed the person- almost certainly a guy, was using the other person for their own gratification as the saliva and piss on my cock and balls slowly dried and I shrivled in the cold. 

It wasn’t long after that Mr Anadromous orgasmed- loudly. And farted as well, I was glad my penis couldn’t smell anything, loud deep breaths coming from the exausted toothless woman. 

My genitals were soon removed and washed off- with freezing cold water that killed any boner that I may have had, which was what they wanted.  To my horror I soon had my Prince Albert penis head ring piercing padlocked to my gooche piercing, which wrapped my penis around my balls, a ball made out of my genitals.  I was soon being thrown slightly in the air and caught to my distress and pain, my stomach doing flips all the while- gasps of pain coinciding with the catches, especially when I landed wrong on a piercing. Thankfully I wasn’t dropped- but despite the terror and pain, a hand touching me... well, I grew hard again. 

Only, it strained painfully at my piercings, and I never got fully hard bent over like I was, it was awful.  It didn’t hurt as bad as last nights hanging, but it wasn’t pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. 

Soon the throwing was done and I was set on a cold hard surface, only taken to be squeezed and teased, pain then pleasure and more pain from the pleasure. 

I heard and noted another plane- and took down the time and looked it up, I had narrowed it down to a couple places- soon I’d find at least the city if nothing further, with the name I could simply go to each guy named Rick Meyer’s house, or more likely just call really- and see who answered- during a time that they were using me. 

That hope was quickly dashed though, as I heard shifting, and soon after was set on a chair and being sat and grinded on by a very hairy vagina.

On one hand, yay for lesbians, on the other, that was another lead down the drain, and this sucked. 

Once she was satisfied- rubbing me raw it felt like, I was washed and hung dangling over the toilet. But look on the bright side, at least I wouldn’t be dipping in toilet water. 

Of course, it was only that night when I realized the game had changed even more- the wedding ring was gone from the person’s hand.


	10. Penile Pirates Get Punished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a little B&E to make you feel alive, that's what I always say.

Chapter Eleven: Penile Pirates Get Punished.

I was feeling too wired to sleep- I had a new method of finding my penis and balls- tracking flight patterns I heard from my penis and balls from an audio bug I placed where they had vanished from my body, though that was just an excuse as I didn’t hear any planes after 10PM.

In truth, I simply couldn’t sleep with my cock and balls hung up in a padlocked ball dangling over a toilet, at least not until I finally gave up, smoked some weed and finally managed to fall asleep. 

I woke in what felt like the middle of the night to getting pissed on, groggily I glanced at the clock, and grunted, I’d gotten 4 hours of sleep, no wonder. Still, there was no getting back to sleep now probably, trying would be an exercise in futility, so I started peeing despite not really needing to not knowing when I’d get a chance, while groggily getting up and taking care of my own morning obligations. 

Soon after I had the audio bug in my underpants and was nursing a cup of coffee while I was mercifully released from the cords and the padlock holding me together removed. I sprang open and the pain from the release was even worse, blood flowing fully into my penis again I suppose, as I was washed.

One plane flew overhead and to my shock, I had location, and to my surprise, it was in Texas, not that far. Looking it up, I saw that Wimberley, Texas to my further amazement only had 3000 people. Sure, the name Rick Meyer may not of shown up, but I had more than enough!

I started packing my van for a trip at any time in the month lull of activity, so I was in my van and headed to Texas in minutes, my tiredness forgotten, hell, I didn’t even get high or pack any weed- too excited and too nervous about border patrol to bother. 

Of course, I was forced to pull over as my genitals had been taken off the towel and were being tied to something by the piercings. The material felt like rubber whatever it was, and soon it was being pulled on. 

I felt myself entering a warm hairy snatch to my surprise, but... soon they were fully on and while I was inside the underpants, a reverse strapon. Then she started walking. It was distracting, as she moved, it moved me within her, but it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t drive. 

 

I stopped at the convince store and loaded up on donuts and a bottle of water, eating them in the parking lot- two distractions might be a bit much.

After that, I went and got a rental car, my van far too distinctive- and switched out my belongings, and drove on after loading up the GPS on my phone with directions. Over 18 hours, well, fuck, guess I’d be taking a break somewhere in the middle of that. 

It was on the highway out of town that tragedy almost struck as she sat down heavily, my balls facing her asshole, it hurt, I managed to not spin out but I did swerve badly, even as she started driving herself, rocking back and forth on me, trying to adjust or just torturing me, I didn’t know, before she mercifully stopped- even if it did give me blue balls. 

I shrank within her as the stimulation died down- though I grew hard again- merely from being in her- sadly I hadn’t fell out while flaccid, the underpants too tight for that. 

It was a relief when she got up- even if my sore balls didn’t think so at the time, but the walking again was distracting, and to my distress she sat down again. I guessed she had a desk job of some sort, hell, I didn’t even know what jobs were in the middle of no where - Texas.

It hurt again of course, but she didn’t seem in the mood for more than wiggling in place to get comfortable, making me grit my teeth in pain.

It didn’t get much easier from there as whenever she noticed me getting soft she would wiggle, if not outright bounce on my cock or clinch her vagina on me like a vice; just to feel the satisfaction I guess- since she didn’t do more like before.

Hours later and feeling like I was about to piss anyway- and it’d serve her right- though I feared her punishment too much to do it voluntarily, when she got up. 

It wasn’t long after that- presumably in the privacy of a bathroom she started rubbing “her” crotch, my balls, and pulled down her pants before pulling me out. I felt waterlogged, a very curious feeling for a cock to feel, as she tapped my head twice after twisting me around dangling down, and she pissed on me, and well, that started me off nicely despite still being a slightly shy pisser.

Wiping the both of us with toilet paper she then, to my distress, got up and pulled me back on, rubbing me through the rubber panties before pulling up her pants and walking back.

As the day went on she stopped trying to provoke a reaction out of me as much it seemed, and it was after another piss break and she was driving again. 

I took the next exit with a motel and soon checked in for the night after grabbing some fast food to go- not only because I was tired but also because if she was headed home that probably meant nothing good for my cock and balls. 

I ate quickly for that reason, and turned on the TV trying to distract myself.

Then she got home.

Her pants and underpants were soon off in a pile, me included, before I was picked up, and the underwear pulled inside out, and was soon being fucked, and I came almost instantly. She didn’t stop of course- not until she noticed I was too flaccid to use, and I was soon thrown hard enough that any pleasure I had derived had been washed away by pain. 

It hurt too much to scream at least, so there was that. As soon as it stopped hurting so much, going from roaring agony to mere agony, I managed to go to sleep, barely stirring as I was washed and hung up like laundry.   
The next morning I kept driving after a quick complementary breakfast that I didn’t fully trust- but the pastries at least seemed alright. 

Not knowing for sure my situation, I couldn’t piss despite needing to a bit- all I knew was they were hurting bad, at least until I was pissed on, which was again my time to join her- before getting the strings and padlock removed, washed, and wrapped completely in a towel.

A little over seven hours later and I was there, Wimberley, Texas nearly coinciding with another piss break- I felt far too sore and drained to immediately set out to finding it- so went and found a diner for lunch- suitably disguised with a blond wig and mustache- along with a cap and clothes that were distinctively not my style. I doubted the woman knew what I looked like, but why take that risk? It was the same thing with the van really. 

Of course, soon after I ordered I regretted the break, as I was picked up not long after, and taken to the toilet for a much needed pee break.

My still sore genitals were carried down to the dungeon again after a light washing even as my food arrived. I must have looked a bit savage as I scarfed it down as fast as I could, barely tasting it, needing the energy. 

I wasn’t fast enough of course. I was soon being pressed against protesting lips balls first, until fed up, they were soon covered in lube and shoved forcefully in while she presumably held the other person’s nose closed, and once uncomfortably inside a woman’s mouth the wrong way, before being tied in place around her head and around the base of my cock.

Aside from the pain of getting stuffed into someone’s mouth that was dying down now- and the residual pains from yesterday and the hanging last night- both which had died down considerably as well, it actually felt pretty good. 

Then the butch woman started fucking it. 

I collected my bill and paid as quick as I could, before heading to the rental car, and through the distractions managed to stuff the audio recorder down my underpants to a pedestrians disgust- before opening my laptop and setting it to play the sounds transmitted through. 

I then started driving periodically honking my horn lightly and waiting for an echo until I finally heard it, and zoomed in on it- and lucky for me there were no houses behind it- it had to be that one. I grinned and noted down the address on my notepad before driving away and parking. 

Not long after the woman’s moans reached their crescendo and she collapsed heavily upon me and the girl that was suckling my balls involuntarily, not long after I was taken out, reversed, stuck back in penis first, before tied back in place, foot steps receding. 

I crossed my fingers, hoping through binoculars but her car didn’t move, she didn’t come out. Looking at the time, no wonder, it was nearly 8PM. 

I waited, but whatever I expected to happen ..didn’t. I was left inside the woman’s mouth, soon the lights in the house went out however. I quickly made a plan, and dumping stuff out of a duffel bag, and getting out my belt’s lockpicking kit- tricky and time consuming to get out- and grabbed a pair of latex gloves. 

I waited another hour, impatient, before pulling up and moving. 

I hadn’t ever heard any dogs barking, no one had dogs nearby enough to be heard, and she was likely asleep, the neighbor’s houses couldn’t be seen- only the equally dark houses behind could, so slowly easing past the gate, I started picking the lock. 

It took me 10 minutes- maybe more before I got it, all the while cock transitioning from hard to soft over and over again, the distraction to blame partly. 

Creeping silently as I could wasn’t hard- socks over a persons shoes might look weird, but it was certainly effective at silencing ones steps. It also helps avoid more distinct shoeprints along with preventing to a degree leaving behind evidence for forensic, at least to a degree. 

Slipping on the night vision goggles, I thought the images better than they showed on TV, clearer if in shades of green. I’d only had cause to use the things a handful of times, but I was glad now that I had kept the things, and my ex called me a spy geek. 

It took only a few minutes to find the door leading to the basement, tried the knob and to my shock it wasn’t locked. Soon I was creeping down, wincing at every creaking step before in the near pitch black only illuminated by street lamps shining in the shaded basement window I started looking around. The amount of sex toys and bondage equipment was obscene, and not all of them were standard. 

There were a couple legs in metal braces that looked like dozens of candles had melted on their thighs, how painful that must be, even just keeping your leg straight for too long is a torture in of itself...

That wasn’t the worst, a half-woman was tied on a wooden horse, her vagina split down the middle of the triangular wood while her ankles were tied together, heavy weights dangling down, pressing harder- she didn’t exist at all above the waist. 

There were move- too much to describe in these pages, and things I didn’t want to describe. 

 

Then I saw it... It being a head dangling on a rope, lightly twisting, with a heavily tattooed and pierced penis hanging out of it’s mouth, tied together with string. Ignoring the woman, a hesitant touch confirmed it, they were mine, I couldn’t help grinning.

Suddenly I heard a sound coming from upstairs- and not willing to risk much more, I cut the head off it’s rope, finding the hair cut far faster, and quickly stuffed the head in my sack- ignoring it’s heavily muffled shriek of surprise. It only took me a second to realize I was in a wonderland of sex and leaving with just what I came here for seemed mightily disappointing. A few things were picked up and put in the bag- in one case I swept a half dozen things from a table into it, zipping it up and near running. 

Soon I was jumping into my van and turning the key, palms sweating like crazy through my gloves, but I finally managed it, and soon started driving away, calling the cops and reporting it in a kidnapping at that address, before taking out the battery and doubling back. 

I didn’t stop until I was two towns away, listening all the while to the news, hoping for and unsurprised by the fallout of my phone call not being immediately released, but hoping she was shut down. It didn’t hurt that I left a little bag of sunshine behind, the extra charge would make me feel better. 

Sure, driving half the night away meant having to piss in the chick’s mouth again, but I didn’t mind after the hell they put me through, even if she later became a victim in her own right.


	11. A Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Free at last, free at last. I'm never taking this weird a case again, nope, no siry-bob. Nope, no sequels soon to be posted... Okay, there was this one case with a Mermaid...

  
I got to the motel room carrying the duffel bag and another smaller day pack, exhausted but satisfied. I had done it, I had retrieved my dick and balls. If only it hadn’t taken me so long to realize how I could get it, all that time wasted on social engineering for nothing, save I suppose the experience.

Digging through the second bag, I finally found and put back on the ski-mask, not perfect but a sight better than letting my unintended kidnap victim see my face, and was soon unzipping the duffel bag.

Blinded by the light her eyes were closed- though clinched shut too tightly to be asleep. 

Picking her up by the sides of her head I set her on the bed- not being able to resist, I touched my penis- I couldn’t get over that, I could touch it again!

When her eyes were finally open, I turned my attention to the woman. She wasn’t unattractive despite the black eyes, slap marks, scratch marks, beyond bruised nose, and insanely messy blonde hair, and I considered her for a moment before saying “I’m going to remove the penis from your mouth, scream or try to get attention and it’s going back in and not coming out before it’s rotted through, got it? Er... Blink once for yes”

She blinked once, eyes slightly tearing up.

I cut the string holding my cock in her mouth and slid it out, an odd experience to be sure, and somewhat painful as I pulled myself out of her, grateful that she was all gums.  
I grinned widely when it was out.  
Sure, I could also see the tons of ring piercings and “Slap Me” as well as “Bite Me” tattoos on them, but they were mine damnit! Mine and in my possession!  
It was good to have my penis and balls back.  
Taking it to the bathroom, I gave it a quick wash before drying it before carrying it, towel and all back into the room- I didn’t want it out of my reach. 

Meanwhile she seemed to be getting used having a free mouth- and a presumably sore jaw, she was opening and closing her mouth and moving her jaw about a bit. 

I waited until she was done, getting a bottle of water out of the mini fridge not caring I’d have to pay an arm and a leg for it. On second thought, make that as long as it’s not literal, I thought, looking at the towel holding my severed salami. 

“Help!” it wasn’t very loud, very raspy, but I sighed, as she screamed it again- as much as that counted as a scream, and winced slightly at the clear lack of any teeth. 

Looked like it was turning her into the police- and going to prison for kidnapping probably, or keeping her. I was not going to prison, so after kicking off my shoes, taking off my sock I stuffed it into her protesting mouth, my waterlogged dick needing a rest.

“Fine, guess I’m keeping you, dammit, I just wanted my dick back.”

She mumbled something, for all I know it was complimenting the taste, I don’t know and frankly I don’t care, she was probably one of the two women original women that had been using my dick anyway, I realized the possibility she was innocent but considering the circumstances.... I tied the sock in her mouth with one of my long sleeved shirts, putting her head back in the duffel bag, setting it on the floor, and got some much needed sleep. 

***

“The suspect in a string of strange kidnappings was caught roughtly two months ago. Amanda Huginkiss, age 28, has. I.. Is this for real? This claims that not only was she in possession of 2 grams of marijuana but what alerted police is an anonymous tip to the police that she was involved in a kidnapping. When police arrived they found things we simply can not say on network TV, the numerous victims, all seemingly sufferer’s of neo-leprosy in a variety of cruel and unusual devices and situations have been taken into police custody. This was kept quiet in an effort to flush out the entire kidnapping network, a total of 28 suspects are awaiting justice. In the meantime, if you are missing a body part, call-” I turned off the TV, grinning like a shark. 

This, if nothing else, called for a celebration.  
The candle on my leg candlestick holder blazed merrily even as I got out my phone and punching in the password to my private network, and a few button presses later I relaxed into a puddle of goo even as my penis was being serviced.   
Twenty feet to my right and about 50 feet down, a dumbwaiter to nowhere with a head in it was getting fucked in the mouth with my penis.  
I couldn’t help thinking as I drifted to sleep that at least I got a little head.  
 


End file.
